


What We've Lost Might Still Remain

by PythagoreanTeapot



Series: Do Not Attempt to Adjust Your Future [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Darcy Lewis, Espionage, How Do I Tag, Isolation, Kidnapping, SHIP DARCY LEWIS WITH ALL THE THINGS, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-10-24 18:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 65,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17709302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PythagoreanTeapot/pseuds/PythagoreanTeapot
Summary: Darcy has a mission: protect the future. Stopping others from changing things is difficult. Stopping herself from changing things might just be harder.Sequel to What's to Come is Already Gone





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back, everyone! A few important notes before we start:  
> 1- This is a sequel. If you haven't read What's to Come is Already Gone then this won't make sense... pretty much at all. Go read that first and then come back.  
> 2- The last story was incredibly vague about where in the MCU canon it fit. That's because I hadn't actually decided at the time. It is, however, rather important for this story. So, this all goes AU after Civil War. It should be pretty clear from this first chapter how I've changed things after that. If anything is unclear, please let me know so I can fix it!  
> 3- You guys are awesome and I'm super excited/super nervous to share the rest of this story with you.
> 
> So, without further ado, let's get this show on the road.

“You promise? Absolutely?” Bucky asked again, “Six months.”

“I promise, Bucky.” Steve assured him, turning from the helicopter window, “You’re right, we need time to remember who we are outside of all this.”

The helicopter wheeled around the shiny new Avengers’ base that Tony had built while the Sokovia Accords had forced half of their team into inaction.

With bureaucracy keeping those who had signed tied up in red tape, those who were fugitives had to pick up the slack defending the planet.

It had been close to a year since the Sokovia Accords, and the secrets they’d been keeping from each other, had torn the Avengers asunder. Between running, hiding, and rushing to stop any threats that arose, the exiled heroes hadn’t had much down time.

Those who had signed up for the accords, on the other hand, had too much.

With multiple committees and disagreeing countries needing to approve any action from the legally sanctioned heroes, it took days to get authorisation for the smallest rescues.

They’d tried a few times regardless – Iron Man had always been better at asking forgiveness than permission –but every time they acted without pre-approval from the applicable committees, they were brought up on charges.

Once the threat was effectively neutralised, of course.

Even as public discontent grew, politicians still rushed to take action against any unauthorized use of power, eager to keep a tight hold on the control they’d seized regardless of the ramifications.

Reality began to dawn on people the day War Machine was arrested and imprisoned for 6 weeks for acting without clearance, after saving the lives of over 300 people from an attack planned by a splinter cell of Hydra.

Rallies and protests started rising. Grass-roots movements sprang up to offer support and shelter for anyone forced into hiding by the Sokovia Accords. Crowdfunding campaigns raised millions for the legal battles.

Tony Stark, who had been the poster child for the Accords initially, and the example for the consequences should anyone try to bend the rules later, started dropping subtle, and progressively less subtle, comments.

He started with disappointment about the way the government was leaving people at risk while they argued about whether an event warranted the Avengers. Then there was the mention in passing about how fortunate it was that Captain America had been there to hold a threat back until the government had made their decision. That progressed, eventually, into blatant disgust at the way the Accords were being handled, the lives that were being lost because of politics, the way elected officials were counting on heroes they called criminals to protect the people they who elected them.

They tried to stop him from saying such things, but with an army of lawyers to back him up, Stark walked a carefully calculated line, just this side of legal.

The Accords were very clear about the things that Iron Man could and couldn’t do without authorisation. Voicing an opinion hadn’t been included.

Slowly, signatory countries had withdrawn from the Accords.

Still, it had taken another 4 months and several changes of government around the world for the Accords to finally be abolished completely.

Within an hour of the announcement, Tony Stark had publicly invited all pervious member of the Avengers and any allies they’d picked up to the new facility he’d built for them.

Steve glanced across at Bucky. Tony’s message had been clear and included enough pointed references to confirm that he was including Bucky in the invitation, but he still felt concerned about this meeting. Tony may have had months to come to terms with what had happened, but that didn’t mean he’d be able to see anything other than his parent’s killer when he and Bucky came face to face once more.

“Stop planning for the worst.” Bucky told him without looking at him.

“I don’t know how to plan for anything else,” Steve admitted.

Bucky turned to look at him again as the helicopter lowered slowly toward the ground and the waiting crowds.

“That’s why we need to do this.” He said firmly. “I know we had to hold down the fort while the Accords kept everyone tied up, but now that they’re lifted we can afford to take some time off. I don’t even remember how to live without fighting anymore. We need to relearn how to just be people again.”

Steve sighed, “I agreed already, remember?”

Bucky nodded, but gave Steve a knowing look, “Yeah, but I know you well enough to know this is going to be hard for you. You barely went a day without getting in a scrap even before you had the muscles to back it up. We both know you’ll want to join the fight anytime you know there is one. But I need you with me on this.”

“I can do six months,” Steve insisted, “I know you need this and… I probably need it, too. I can’t pretend I won’t struggle with it at times, and any apocalyptic level events have to be an exception, but I promised you six months with no missions. I’ll keep that promise.”

The helicopter landed, and they played their parts for the crowd, smiling and voicing gratitude and patriotism and forgiveness. The Avengers who had signed - and been confined by - the accords, waited for them with open arms. Literally. Carefully measured hugs were distributed without showing any real feeling to give the image of unity to the watching journalists.

They had to wait until the press conference ended and it was acceptable for them to escape inside the compound before they could learn whether they were really being welcomed back.

“So, I guess the others are waiting to see how your return goes before coming back themselves?” Rhodey asked as they made their way into the secure area away from prying eyes, the exo-skeleton supports on his legs whirring quietly.

“Pretty much,” Steve conceded, “They’ve got every reason to be wary.”

Rhodey snorted, “You don’t have to tell me.”

“Yeah, sucks that you were arrested,” Tony cut Rhodey off, “You can compare notes on the crimes of the government later.”

“Tony,” Pepper sighed in exasperation.

“And Tony’s as pleasant as he’s always been,” Rhodey said to Steve.

“I’ve got… _things_ that I have to say,” Tony shot back, tension visible, “And yeah, I want to get it over with.”

Steve froze, feeling Bucky tense beside him, too. This was the moment of truth. Either they had made a terrible mistake coming back here, or they had a chance at a real life again.

“What you did was shit.” Tony said pointing at Steve, “Keeping that knowledge from me? Lying to me? It was a shitty thing to do. If you’d just given me a chance to…” He broke off with a huff of frustration. Then he took a breath, centring himself and turned back to them.

“I forgive you,” He said tightly, words clearly rehearsed, “And I regret that I reacted the way I did.”

Shocked silence settled over the room.

Steve cleared his throat, “I’m sorry. I wish I’d told you about your parents when I first found out. I was scared of how you’d react, but clearly keeping it from you wasn’t a good choice.”

Tony glanced at Bucky and mumbled, “I’m sorry I tried to kill you.”

“I’m sorry for…” Bucky broke off, blinking back tears, “Everything.”

“Yeah, that’s been made pretty clear.” Tony nodded.

“Right, good,” Rhodey stepped forward into the awkward tension, “Everybody forgives everybody. Now we can just let it all go and move forward.”

“Not yet,” Tony disagreed, “I’ve got one more question first.”

He glanced between Steve and Bucky, unsure who might know the answer, where to direct his question.

“My father’s last words,” He began, and saw both men tense, “Who the hell was Reese?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not where you expected things to pick up? Need an explanation? Stick around, because all will be explained in the next... 20-30 chapters.


	2. Zungenbrecher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! So much excitement about this story! I am also super eager for you to see where it's going.
> 
> I am planning to stick with the twice weekly updates for now, so you won't be in suspense for too long. Once I've finished writing the whole thing I might try posting more frequently.
> 
> This chapter was very tricky to write. There are so, so many things that I had to lay the groundwork for here. So many things. Working them all in smoothly was not easy, but I'm pretty happy with it.

Darcy closed her eyes and took a slow breath to centre herself. She swallowed twice and then nodded to herself and spoke slowly.

“Am zehnten Zehnten zehn Uhr zehn zogen zehn zahme Ziegen zehn Zentner Zucker zum Zoo.”

“No,” Peggy admonished sharply, “You’re still not getting a sharp enough ‘ts’ sound. Again.”

“Ugh,” Darcy flopped back onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling, “We’ve been doing this for hours.”

“And we will keep doing this until you get it right every time without thinking about it,” Peggy was unphased by her attitude, “When undercover, your accent could be the difference between life and death. Again.”

Darcy sighed and pushed herself back up to a sitting position.

“Okay, I can do this. Ts, ts, ts, ts, ts. Am zehnten Zehnten zehn Uhr zehn zogen zehn zahme Ziegen zehn Zentner Zucker zum Zoo.”

“Better,” Peggy conceded, “Don’t let your vowels slip just because you’re focussing on the consonants. Again.”

Darcy stared up at the woman towering over her spot on the floor. As usual, Peggy was perfectly put together, every curl in place, precise lipstick and powerful right-hook.

Peggy had told her early, and not unkindly, that a woman in this industry could be twice as good as every man, but if she missed a button that would be the only thing anyone would see.

Darcy had spent about a week trying to keep up with the agent, following every bit of advice she was given to be both ferocious and flawless. It had been absurdly impossible. She still had no idea how she did it, and Darcy’s respect for Agent Peggy Carter had soared even higher.

It had become clear to both of them fairly quickly that Darcy could barely walk in a straight line without her hair slipping from its style or her shirt sliding out from her waistband or a run appearing in her stocking. Peggy had sighed but had told her that she could steer into the failures instead. After all, in the espionage line of work it could be quite useful if everyone was focussed on a missed button.

Darcy had taken that to its obvious conclusion; she dropped any pretence of being a proper 1941 woman and started slouching and swearing around the house.

Peggy took most of this in stride, but when Darcy had flopped down on the floor this morning she’d gotten a short lecture about needing to fit in and meeting proper etiquette.

She’d spent the first hour proving that she could, if she had to. But after uncountable German tongue-twisters she just didn’t care anymore.

“Am zehnze – ugh, Am zehnten Zehnten zehn –” Darcy started again, but a shout ringing through the house cut her off. She grinned in relief.

Peggy rolled her eyes, “It was a terrible idea to include him in this. He’ll never stop pestering you for details about the future.”

“It was your idea to tell him!” Darcy reminded her, “And you were right. Stopping Pinstripes from changing the past is only part of my mission. Once I return to my own time I also need to break myself and my bestie out of the evil base that’s held us captive for months. Clearly, I’m never going to be able to do that with my bare hands.”

“Future-girl!” Howard Stark called out to her as he appeared in the doorway, “There you are.”

“Howard!” Peggy admonished, “You can’t call her that.”

“She’s living in my house, I can call her whatever I want.” Howard replied with a dismissive wave.

“Wow, way to sound like a creepy slave owner or serial rapist or something,” Darcy stared at him in open disgust, “Do you always tell people who stay with you that they don’t get a say over their own name anymore?”

Howard paused for a moment, searching for some defence, then threw up his hands.

“Fine, you can choose what I call you,” he pointed at her with a stubborn look, “But I refuse to use that obvious pseudonym Peggy keeps making you stick to. Just because it’s the identification you’re using now doesn’t mean I have to go along with it. It’s not even subtle. Hermione Wells? What’s her middle name, Gertrude?”

Darcy smirked, “No middle name on the birth certificate. It’s implied. See, there’s actually two references combined into one because Hermione is a character who time-travels in a book that hasn’t been written yet. And everyone will know what initial follows ‘Hermione’.”

 “Even worse,” Howard proclaimed, “I’m not calling you that.”

“Well,” Darcy shrugged, “If you need a code name for me, you could call me Reese. I’ve answered to that before.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her, “Is that also a reference to time travel?”

Darcy shrugged innocently, “Who can say?”

“You can say!” He yelled accusingly.

“I don’t know which of you is worse,” Peggy sighed tiredly, turning away from them.

“I thought I made it pretty clear the last seven thousand times you asked; I can’t talk about the future.” Darcy countered, ignoring Peggy’s frustration.

“Oh, so, that Hermione character is the only exception, then?” He raised a brow at her.

“I may have let slip a little about a fictional person, but just because I got mildly excited about a childhood role model, doesn’t mean I’m going to give you any other future clues.”

“That’s why I came to find you,” Howard dropped the teasing tone and stared at her seriously, “No more letting slip about the future. I don’t want to know anything, I don’t want to hear even the tiniest hint. Anything I do hear, I’m going to try to forget. No more talk about the future, at all.”

Darcy stared at him in shock. From the corner of her eye, she saw Peggy spin back around to stare at him as well.

“Howard,” Peggy spoke as if to an elderly relative who might struggle to understand, “You have spent every waking moment of the last two weeks trying to trick, interrogate or cajole clues about the future from Miss Wells. Do you really expect us to believe you’ve just changed your mind?”

“Is this some attempt at reverse psychology?” Darcy added, staring at him suspiciously, “Do you think by telling me I can’t talk about it I’ll suddenly get the urge to start?”

“I packed up the Gravitic Reversion project.” Howard replied seriously, as if that would somehow answer their questions.

When he didn’t continue, Darcy and Peggy exchanged a confused look.

“The gravi-what now?” Darcy asked, utterly bewildered.

“You told me there are no flying cars in the future.” Howard reminded her.

“Yes,” Darcy nodded slowly, “And then you pestered me about it for weeks and I’ve never regretted any words more in my life.”

“You said it wouldn’t happen, so I _stopped trying_ ,” Howard was staring at her like this was the most important statement ever, “You don’t even know why there aren’t flying cars in your future! But I gave the order to shut down the project anyway. Even though the theory is solid and the work so far is promising, I packed it up because you told me to.”

“I did not tell you to stop trying.” Darcy disputed, “I’ve worked with science people, I know how important things failing can be for progress. I would _never_ tell you to stop trying.”

“Exactly!” Howard agreed, “What if the reason there aren’t flying cars is because I stopped trying to make them? I can’t quit just because there’s a chance it won’t turn out the way I think it will. Even if it doesn’t turn into flying cars, it could still turn into other technologies that I haven’t dreamed of yet. And I was willing to skip all of that because of a tiny, insignificant glimpse of the future.”

He shook his head, determined, “No, fore-knowledge is too dangerous. It’s too easy to let it change how you see the world. So, I don’t want to hear any more about the future than is absolutely necessary to get you back there in one piece. Understood?”

“Dear God, you’re actually serious, aren’t you?” Peggy asked, shocked.

“Deadly,” He nodded.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Darcy promised, “No matter how soon you change your mind and start asking me things again.”

“Not changing my mind.” He said firmly, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a flying car to build.”

They watched as he turned and left the room as abruptly as he’d arrived.

“Hah!” Darcy shouted victoriously, “Finally someone gets it! I wish I could forget everything I know about the future, too.”

“Reese,” Peggy turned to face her, “Obviously, it’s vital that the details of the future remain secret, but this approach is not feasible either. We need to know what we’re heading towards, what to prepare for. I still believe you should tell us who will be the first recipient of Dr Erskine’s formula. It’s clear that is something your Pinstripes would very much like to change.”

Damn. Darcy deflated as all enthusiasm fled. And she’d managed to go almost four hours without thinking about Steve.

It had been ten months since she’d seen him. Ten months since she’d held him, kissed him, told him she loved him. Ten months since she walked away.

It had been the right thing, she knew, but it still hurt like hell.

Most days passed without too much heartache. She had no shortage of distractions what with learning to fight and spy and infiltrate enemy operations.

The first three months had been the hardest. She’d known when and where she needed to be to meet and protect Agent Peggy Carter, but she’d left New York three months earlier, unable to stay there with the heartache of loving Steve and not being able to love him.

She’d spent the time plotting and moving. She tried to track Pinstripes without much success. She’d studied the state of the war going on in the rest of the world, memorised maps and names of key figures. She’d read about cryptography and the latest technological advances in aeronautics and weaponry.

But every single day had been a drag, a struggle just to get up and keep moving. She couldn’t give up, but there had been nothing she could actually _do_ in the moment.

Once she’d met Peggy, it had been easier. Peggy filled her day first with interrogations and tests and scrutiny, then with training; fighting, languages, espionage.

With Peggy’s help, she’d managed to track Pinstripes’ actions, though they hadn’t been able to pinpoint his location. They knew the code name he was using, the people he was talking to, parts of the plans he’d begun.

The days passed more quickly now, with something to focus on, a target to aim for.

But still, every day, something would remind her of Steve. He was so entangled in everything she was working to protect, she couldn’t escape the thought of him.

She wondered if he’d managed to stop thinking about her.

She wondered whether he’d moved on yet, like she’d told him to. She wondered if he’d forgotten her completely.

Unlikely, really. How often did a time-traveller hijack your whole life?

“We’ve been over this,” Darcy sighed, trying to push Steve out of her thoughts as if Peggy might spot him in her head. “I’m not going to tell you who he is. You’d react to him, or try to sway things in his favour, or something. You don’t actually get final say who gets the serum, so you knowing wouldn’t help anyway. It happened right the first time, and I’m not willing to risk messing with the formula that worked.”

“Our sources say your quarry is leaving for Austria soon. Once you follow him there, you won’t be able to contact us regularly. It’s in everyone’s best interest if there is someone here who knows what is meant to occur.” Peggy argued, as she had before. “If you realise too late that it’s not moving forward as it should, we won’t have any way to fix it. Aren’t you worried we’ll choose the wrong person?”

“No,” Darcy answered firmly. “Because I have faith that he won’t let you choose anyone else. Besides, once you find him you’ll know. I’m confident that he’ll be the obvious choice.”

“They’re already narrowing down the list from thousands of top soldiers.” Peggy reminded her, “Everyone who makes the cut will be the best of the best. There’s unlikely to be just one standout among the candidates.”

“You’ll know.” Darcy assured her, “Because you don’t need a great soldier, you need a hero. That’s a different thing entirely.”

“Well,” Peggy snapped, exasperated, “Perhaps I haven’t met enough heroes to spot them on sight.”

Darcy smiled, “Then take it from someone who has – you’ll know it when you see it.”

The clock in the hallway chimed, and Darcy pushed herself to her feet and moved across to the large radio at the side of the room. After a moment of adjusting the dials and switches the news announcer’s voice filled the room.

Peggy watched her speculatively.

“Who is it you listen for?” Peggy asked gently.

Darcy glanced at her briefly, then turned back towards the radio, perching on the arm of a chair.

“I did make some friends here before I came looking for you,” Darcy answered quietly, “I care about the draft numbers as much as anyone.”

They listened in silence as the announcer moved through current events, until finally he began to list the latest numbers to be drawn from the draft lottery.

Darcy tensed in her spot on the armchair. The first two numbers meant nothing to her, but the third…

_873_

She knew that number. She’d memorised it, had made both of them tell her their draft numbers so she would know as soon as they did.

_873_

Bucky had just been drafted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not speak German (though I can sing the Haribo song, does that count?) so I just googled German tongue twisters (Zungenbrecher, the same research told me) and picked one I liked. It's about goats taking sugar to the zoo. If I've copied something incorrectly, please let me know!  
> Also, I did a bit of research on how the draft worked in the US at the time, but I don't actually know if the numbers were announced on the radio. I couldn't find confirmation one way or the other, so I decided to just run with what worked for the story.


	3. Can’t Just Stand by and Watch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter may have clued you in to a few of the reasons I decided this needed to be a separate story from the first part. This chapter gives you the other major reason - this time there are multiple POVs involved.

Steve Rogers frowned at the form in his hands. It was certainly succinct.

He’d gone straight to the recruitment office as soon as his shift ended. He hadn’t seen or spoken to Bucky since the newspapers had listed his number on the draft lottery that morning. He wanted to do this first, so that he could tell Bucky that, whenever the letter showed up with his name on it, he wouldn’t have to go alone.

But now he was staring down at the stamped characters on his form, 4F, at a loss.

He’d been planning to volunteer for months. The United States wasn’t officially at war yet, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time. And when that time came, Steve wanted to be there. He needed to be there.

All over the world, people were suffering, fighting, dying. People were being persecuted and murdered for their beliefs, their parentage, their physical appearance, things beyond their control.

Human beings, dying, every day.

It was wrong. It was sickening. It had to be stopped. And if the world didn’t stand up to that now, then it would never end.

It wasn’t a matter of someone having to do something. Everyone had to do something _. Steve_ had to do something. Because standing back and letting it happen was as bad as endorsing it.

Silence was complicity.

He’d always intended to do his part, but while the United States was holding back from engaging, it hadn’t felt like there was much point in signing up.

But Bucky had just been drafted, and now there was every reason to sign up. Even if it meant untold months sitting around waiting for the government to realise what was right in front of them.

That they couldn’t sit back and let the rest of the world fight for their freedoms.

That the darkness spreading across the world wouldn’t stop unless people like Steve were willing to risk everything to stop it.

That if they didn’t fight for the rights and freedoms and dignity of others, then there would be no one left to fight for them once they could no longer avoid the war.

And they couldn’t avoid it, Steve was certain. Personally, he didn’t think they should be trying to avoid it, but he understood the desire to stay out of the fighting. He just didn’t think there was any logic to it. It wasn’t just selfish and short-sighted to think that what was happening overseas would sort itself out without American involvement, it was stupid.

The war wouldn’t stop at the American borders. It would come for them sooner or later, in one way or another. And if they didn’t stand with their friends and allies now, then how could they expect anyone to stand with them when their turn came.

It was right for America to stand up and fight now, for the people who couldn’t fight for themselves and for the people who _were_ fighting for themselves every single day and couldn’t win on their own.

But it was also smart for America to stand up for _themselves_ before that choice was taken from them, before that fight became even harder.

He’d started reading everything he could about war in general and this one in particular, preparing for the day when he would volunteer. His local librarian set books aside for him without him even having to ask anymore. He read books on strategy and tactics, on international politics, studied maps of the areas around the front-lines. He listened for every bit of information he could get about how the war was going.

And now he had nothing to do with all of that knowledge.

They’d turned him down. Taken one look and stamped the page 4F.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew he wouldn’t be the most effective soldier. He didn’t have delusions about what he was and wasn’t capable of, and he understood the odds were high that he wouldn’t come back.

But that didn’t matter, it couldn’t matter. His life wasn’t worth more than anyone else’s. It wasn’t worth more than the Brits and the French and the Canadians and the uncountable others all fighting for their lives now. It wasn’t worth more than the civilians taking cover from bombs or smuggling intel or hiding hunted people. It wasn’t worth more than the persecuted people having to flee their homes, their lives, their families or die. And sometimes die anyway.

Steve’s life wasn’t worth more than Bucky’s.

So what if he might not have made the biggest difference on the front-lines? Even the smallest difference matters.

If he could save one life, if he could slow the advance of the Third Reich for even a minute, that would be worth the effort. To show them that the world would not step back and allow them to cut a bloody swathe across the planet. To show the people afraid of standing up that every one of them could make a difference. To show those trapped and incapacitated by these fascists that they are not alone, they are not forgotten, and they will not be abandoned.

But the US army didn’t want Steve Rogers.

They would take Bucky, and Steve would be stuck here, useless.

Alone.

Steve shook the thought from his head.

That wasn’t what this was about.

Yes, the last months had been hard. He’d never expected to fall so completely in love, to meet someone so spectacular and so selfless. He’d certainly never expected to have it all torn away instantly.

He’d felt lost ever since she left, not realising until she was gone how much purpose she’d given him. For so long, Steve had been the weak one, the broken one, the one who _needed_ help instead of giving it.

But she’d never looked at him that way. She’d needed the kind of help he _could_ give, and, much as he’d hated seeing her suffer, it had been easier to set aside his own troubles when he knew she needed as much solid, unwavering support as he could give her.

Having that suddenly ripped away hadn’t just left a hole in his heart - he’d expected that one - it had left gaps scattered through every aspect of his life.

And sure, he knew it would all be even harder without Bucky there to distract him, to comfort him, to hold him together.

But that wasn’t why he’d volunteered. He’d volunteered because there were millions of people suffering far worse than a broken heart, and he had to do everything in his power to fix that.

Like she would.

Steve frowned at the page in his hand and then tore it in half.

Just like she would.

The woman who had fallen into his life, stormed into his heart, and crept into his soul without even giving him her real name. She’d left because she had a bigger job, a more important job, because lives were at stake and that was worth more than her happiness, more than her safety, more than the possibility of what they could have had.

He’d seen first hand what she’d gone up against. He’d watched her face down a gun with empty hands, lunge for a knife without hesitation. He’d seen her stand up when she’d literally been beaten down.

He’d watched her break, had held her hand as she fell apart, had listened as she let slip all that she’d lost and all that she feared.

And he’d watched her put herself back together and move forward anyway.

She’d told him she wasn’t meant to be the hero, that she wasn’t cut out for the job she’d ended up with. But that never stopped her from doing it anyway.

If she could keep standing up again, then so could Steve. Hell, he’d never stayed down when he was told to before. Why start now?

Back to his original plan, then. Tomorrow, he’d go find Bucky and tell him that he wouldn’t be going over there alone. One way or another, Steve would find a way to go too.

The US Army might think they didn’t want Steve Rogers, but he’d convince them.

\--

Bucky did not think it was a good idea.

“Steve, they have the criteria for a reason.” He said for the third time, “They turned you down. That’s how it works.”

“I’ll try again,” Steve replied stubbornly, “I’ll keep trying until they change their mind.”

“Is this about what she said?” Bucky asked astutely.

“No,” Steve answered quickly, though her words echoed in his head. _There have been other of wars worth fighting, but none more than this one._

Bucky didn’t bother responding to that, just raised a brow and gave Steve an unconvinced look.

“It’s not,” Steve insisted, “It’s about doing the right thing.”

“The right thing as she saw it,” Bucky countered drily.

“No,” Steve shook his head and sighed, “Look, the things she let slip just confirm what we already know. This war is not just one side against another. It’s not just about politics or resources or wealth. This war is about life and death, freedom or internment. It’s about humanity. That’s worth fighting for even if the fight is hard, _especially_ if the fight is hard.”

“But we’re not talking about a _hard fight_ here, Steve,” Bucky disagreed, “We’re talking about a suicide mission. The army wouldn’t turn you away if they thought you had any chance of surviving. You don’t have to die just because some dame called you a hero. Do you somehow think you’ll get her back if you sign up?”

“It’s not about her, Bucky,” Steve repeated, “She’s long gone, and I know she’s not coming back. It’s been ten months. She’s been gone longer than she was here. I’m not expecting her to come back and I’m not doing this for her.”

“You say that,” Bucky answered, “But you still refuse to go on a single date with someone else. You still get all morose when you see Mrs Benthelwaite or walk past that shoe shop. You’re as hung up on her as you were the day she left. I get it if you’re scared of being left alone here when I leave, but that’s no reason to do something so stupid.”

Steve was silent for a moment, considering Bucky’s words. He couldn’t dispute them, really. He still thought about Billie all the time, and he couldn’t pretend the thought of staying here alone hadn’t crossed his mind when he was making this decision.

But that wasn’t _why_ he’d made the decision.

“No,” He spoke quietly, certainly, “I’m not stupid. I know the risks. I know that life in the army will be a hell of a lot harder than staying here alone would be. And I know it might be a hell of a lot shorter, too. But, Bucky, I’ve almost died here in my own city enough times. The next big influenza could kill me, and what would that be worth? People are dying over there, right now. And I’m willing to fight for them with everything I’ve got.”

He stared down Bucky with a determined gaze, not even blinking when the doorbell rang.

“Dammit, Steve,” Bucky sighed, pushing to his feet and moving towards the door, “This conversation is not over. Just because I know you’ve been this stupidly stubborn for years, doesn’t mean I’m not certain this is because of –”

He cut off as he opened the door to find the woman in question staring back at them. His voice dropped to a shocked whisper as he finished his sentence.

“Billie.”

She gave them a shy smile and an awkward wave, “Hi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you really think I'd make you wait for a reunion?


	4. Is This a Joke?

“You’re here,” Steve said in shock, frozen in his seat.

“Not for long,” Darcy answered quickly, not wanting anyone to get their hopes up, “Just a day. I have to go back tonight.”

“Why?” Bucky asked, a hint of hostility in his voice. She couldn’t blame him, not with the way she’d left, the way she’d stayed away.

“I – I just,” Darcy shrugged, “I heard your number on the radio. And I have to go do something that might take… a while. Things are happening. I just wanted to see you both one more time before all of that.”

Silence followed her statement, before Bucky broke it warily.

“You say that like you think we’re going to die.” He said slowly, a question in his voice.

“It’s not…” Darcy shook her head, struggling to find the words, “This thing I have to do, if I do it right then I can go home. _My_ home. And I’ll have to because… because of other things that I have to do there. So, when I say I wanted to see you one more time…” She broke off and looked away, inching backwards from her spot still standing in the open doorway.

“You’re still the best friends I have in this decade.” She looked up at them again, “And I don’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

“Dammit,” Bucky sighed and stepped forward with his arms open, “Come here.”

He pulled her into a hug, and Darcy felt a tension she’d been carrying for months release at the embrace.

“I’m glad you’re not dead.” He told her.

“Me too.” She agreed, relaxing into his embrace.

She met Steve’s eyes over Bucky’s shoulder and saw turmoil in them to match her own.

“I’m glad we’re all not dead.” She whispered.

Bucky stepped back and gestured for her to come in, closing the door behind her when she did.

“Any chance you’ll tell us where you’ve been?” He asked, without much hope.

Darcy shook her head, “Sorry.”

“Nothing?” He asked as he led her across to the table where Steve still sat, seemingly in shock, “You’ve been gone for months; you must have been doing something. Or have you still been chasing that same guy wherever he went?”

“Um, yes and no,” Darcy shifted awkwardly, glancing at Steve who was frozen ramrod straight next to her, “It’s complicated.”

“She says it’s complicated,” Bucky rolled his eyes and kicked Steve lightly under the table, “Like it never got complicated here, right, Steve?”

“I – Right, yes… complicated.” Steve attempted and then trailed off.

The two of them were shooting tiny glances at each other and then looking away again quickly. Bucky watched them for a moment, reigning in a sigh. They were both useless.

“Well, things haven’t really changed that much here,” Bucky tried again to break the tension, “Steve’s still and idiot and I’m still the only one around who makes any sense.”

Darcy shot him a pale grin, “I don’t think anything could ever change that.”

“I’ve resigned myself to it,” he agreed with a shrug.

Neither of them seemed to have any response, and an awkward silence dropped over them again.

After a moment, Bucky pushed himself up suddenly.

“Well this is too painful to watch. I think you two need to talk alone. _Just_ talk.” He pointed at Darcy then at Steve with a significant look. Then, with a shake of his head he turned and grabbed his coat, “But, if you decide to do something stupid at least put a sock on the doorknob or something.”

With that, he swept out of his own apartment, leaving Steve and Darcy alone.

They sat in silence for a while, each shooting darting glances at the other without actually making eye contact.

Steve cleared his throat, “So, um, you’re doing well, then?”

Darcy nodded, then realised he couldn’t tell since he wasn’t looking at her.

“Yeah, yes. I mean, I’ve still got a mission to finish and everything, still missing home and friends and all of that. But, I’m fine.” Darcy tried to ignore the way her voice was pitched just a bit higher than normal, belying her words, “I’m… I’m doing better, really, than when I was here. I – I know more what I’m doing now, how to get where I need to go.”

She shoved as much false cheer into her smile as she could manage and nodded to him, or possibly to herself, as if that would make it all true.

“Good,” He nodded vaguely, “That’s good.”

“And you?” She asked tentatively, “Have you been okay?”

“Of course,” He said firmly, nodding, “I’m great. Everything’s just…”

He broke off with a sigh and looked up at her with a wry smile.

“Everything’s hard.” He admitted, meeting her gaze with painful honesty, “I’m glad we had the time we did, but moving on… It’s hard. I miss you. And now Bucky’s going to leave, and I’m going to be stuck here and I feel… useless. And I feel selfish for feeling that because I know there are so many people out there whose lives are much harder than mine. Including you.”

Darcy reached out to him instinctively, twining her fingers with his.

“Hey, suffering’s not a competition.” She told him gently, “Your hardships matter even if there are worse things in the world. And you’re not useless. And I miss you, too.”

Steve nodded at her, sniffing back tears. In unison they moved toward each other, arms wrapping around in a tight hug.

Steve buried his face in her curls, taking a shaky breath in.

“I’m really, really glad you’re okay.” He told her earnestly. “And I’m glad you came back, even if it’s just for a day.”

Darcy nodded against his shoulder, “Me too.”

Darcy pulled back, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. She gave him a watery smile.

“So, in the interest of getting all the awkward out of the way before Bucky gets back,” Darcy gave him an apologetic look, “You said moving on has been hard, have you had some terrible dates?”

“No,” Steve laughed and looked down, “No dates.”

Darcy bit her lip, “You could, you know. You should, even.”

“Have you?” He looked up at her astutely, clearly certain he knew the answer already.

“I… That’s different.” Darcy shook her head.

“How?” Steve asked, challengingly.

“Because –” Darcy threw her hands up in exasperation, “Because I don’t have a future here. I don’t have anything to offer anyone in this time. But you… You’re remarkable, Steve, and you could make someone really happy. I’m not meant to change the past; I need to know that breaking your heart isn’t going to cause you permanent damage. If you weren’t interested in that kind of relationship that would be fine, but I know how much you want that.”

He glanced away, thinking about her words.

“You’re right,” He acknowledged, turning back to her, “I do want that. But I don’t want some pale imitation of that just for the sake of it. I’m sure someday I’ll be ready to try, but after what we had… I don’t have a problem waiting for something real, someone real.”

Darcy sighed, but smiled. She couldn’t argue with that. “Okay, as long as you’re happy. Or as close as you can get in times like these.”

 Steve nodded slowly, and answered sincerely, “I’ll get there. Eventually.”

“Good,” Darcy narrowed her eyes at him, “But I think we can do better than eventually.”

“Oh?” Steve raised a brow at her in question.

“Mhm,” Darcy nodded with a smirk, “I bet we get to happy tonight.”

Steve gave her a concerned look, “If you’re about to suggest something that would need a sock on the doorknob, I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”

“Worse,” Darcy shook her head, trying to contain her smile, “Knock knock.”

Steve huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes.

“Who’s there?”

\--

By the time Bucky got back, Steve and Darcy were barely able to speak around the laughter. Darcy had tried to get a punchline out several times but kept making herself laugh before she could finish.

“An – An orange that’s holding it’s breath.” She gasped, giggling hysterically.

Steve snorted gracelessly, “That’s the stupidest one yet. It makes no sense.”

“I know!” Darcy laughed loudly, “That’s why I love it.”

“Well,” Bucky shook his head at them in fond exasperation, “I guess this is an improvement.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points for anyone who knows that joke.


	5. Don’t Forget or You’ll Never Remember

They spent the rest of the morning talking and laughing. Without discussion, they all kept the conversation light, insignificant. No one asked Darcy where she’d been for the last 10 months, no one mentioned Bucky’s impending conscription, and no one alluded to Steve’s failure to join the army.

It was lovely to forget for a moment.

Eventually, they decided to venture out, like the old days. Get some lunch, maybe catch a show. They made an excursion of it, taking the subway to a diner that was a little out of the way but worth the trip.

They were leaving the diner when Steve spotted the sign.

When he moved a step towards the recruitment office, Bucky stepped in his path.

“Steve,” He glared at his friend, “Don’t.”

Steve looked up, determination in his gaze, “We had this conversation. I’m not going to stop trying.”

“We didn’t finish that conversation,” Bucky corrected, “And I’m not going to let you do this, even if we have to have this argument in the middle of the street.”

Darcy’s wide eyes darted between the two men, uncertain what, if anything, she should do.

“I’ve made my choice.” Steve stated firmly, moving around Bucky.

Bucky grabbed Steve’s sleeve and yanked him back, “Don’t be an idiot.”

“Excuse me?” Steve frowned at Bucky indignantly.

“You heard me,” Bucky growled, “They turned you down for a reason. I know you get all contrary when someone tells you no, but this isn’t some ride at Coney Island. People are dying over there, and you just aren’t strong enough.”

“You think I don’t know how serious this is?” Steve yanked his sleeve from Bucky’s grip, “I know better than most how bad things are over there. That’s why I know how important it is to fight. This _matters_. I’m not going to sit by and do nothing just because it’s hard!”

“Yeah, I heard the speech too,” Bucky gestured towards Darcy who felt herself hunch inwards like she could disappear from the conversation, “But there’s brave and then there’s stupid. And you are stupid if you think that you’ll survive over there. And then where will I be?”

“There!” Steve replied, “Helping! Doing your part! And where will I be while you’re doing that?”

“Helping here!” Bucky yelled, “You think there aren’t important things to be done on the home front? You’ll be busy running all the drives and buying war bonds. Assuming you don’t get yourself arrested for forging papers with this stupidity!”

He gestured vaguely towards the sign for the draft office.

“It’s not up to you,” Steve ground out between his teeth, “I get to choose what kind of stupid to be. I know the risks and I’ve made my choice.”

Bucky spun to Darcy, “Tell him not to do this. We don’t talk about it, but we all know what you know. Tell him he doesn’t have to do this.”

Darcy shook her head silently, tears flowing down her cheeks.

“Really?” Bucky stared at her in disbelief, “You won’t just say one word to save his life?”

He stared at her for a moment as she wiped her cheeks with her sleeve.

“No,” Bucky shook his head in determination, “I know how much you care about him. You two might be lying to each other and even yourselves about it, but I know you still love him. You wouldn’t let him kill himself – or get himself arrested – for something as _useless_ as this.”

Darcy took a shuddering breath, “It’s his choice. It has to be his choice. I can’t –” She hiccupped over the word and tried again, “I’ve said too much already. I can’t get in the way of him making this choice himself.”

“Choice,” Bucky asked flatly, “You’ll let him kill himself without even making sure he has all of the information because it’s his _choice_. Bullshit. You’re the one making a choice right now.”

Darcy closed her eyes for a moment, then she nodded. When her eyes opened, they were dry again, and certain.

“You’re right,” She answered, “I have made the choice. Maybe it’s the wrong one, but it’s the best I can do with the information I have. And you won’t change my mind. Steve can do what he wants, and I’ll respect any decision he makes. And you need to do the same.”

“You want me to let him go?” Bucky stepped forward challengingly, “Then tell me he’ll survive. You know what’s coming, so tell me.”

“Bucky,” Steve admonished, shocked that Bucky had broken their number one rule for dealing with Billie.

“I can’t talk about the future,” Darcy said firmly.

“Come on,” Bucky chided, “You can do better than that. All your crap about not interfering, but your rant is the reason he’s trying so hard to sign up! And now you’re taking a side by claiming you’re not taking a side? You’ve messed with timelines so much already; what’s one more sentence?”

“Yeah,” Darcy sniffed, “I suck at not changing things. But I’m doing the best I can. And I have to draw the line somewhere.”

“It’s nothing to do with her!” Steve tried to draw Bucky’s focus back to him, “I’d be doing this regardless.”

Bucky ignored Steve and stepped closer to Darcy, “But you _want_ me to let him go. So, this isn’t the place you’re drawing the line. Just answer the question. And you may have gotten more practice since you left, but I still know when you’re lying. What are the chances he’ll come back in the same state he’s in now?”

Darcy choked back a snort before composing herself, “I’m not answering that question.”

“Then why should I let him do this?” Bucky shouted.

“What makes you think you can stop him?” Darcy shouted back.

“I’d rather see him in jail for lying on the forms than dead,” Bucky said with a savvy look, “I could stop him.”

“Don’t,” Darcy and Steve said together.

“You want me to let him go, then give me a reason!” Bucky yelled at her, “Look me in the eye, and tell me that I won’t be coming home without him!”

A harsh, surprised laugh burst from Darcy’s lips at that, “That’s what you need to hear? Fine!”

She stepped up and looked Bucky dead in the eye with cold certainty.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” She said clearly and firmly, “Without him, you won’t be coming home.”

Shocked silence followed her statement. Bucky stumbled back a half a step as her meaning hit him. He turned to look at Steve, his own fear and uncertainty reflected in his best friend’s face.

He looked back as Darcy turned silently to walk away, her shoulders drawn up as if she could keep the world away with her shoulder blades.

Bucky dropped his head into his hands and breathed out a vehement, “Fuck.”

“Buck,” Steve’s voice was full of concern, as was his expression when Bucky looked up at him. Steve’s concerned gaze then turned in the direction Darcy had gone and he took a half a step that way, then shifted back to Bucky, clearly uncertain who needed him more, “I should –”

“No,” Bucky straightened and shook his head, “I’ll go talk to her. I’m the one that did this. Besides, you’ve got somewhere else to be.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked with a frown. Bucky wasn’t certain which part he was asking about.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, “I’m not going to pretend to be okay with it. Still scares the shit outta me. But I’m not stupid enough to ignore her warning. So, go join the army. I’ve got some apologies to make.”

Steve nodded slowly and turned to walk away, glancing back a few times as he went.

-

He found her by the river. She was sitting on the ground, arms wrapped around her knees, watching the water, or the ducks, or the drifting leaves.

He settled beside her and waited a moment before jumping to the important part.

“I’m sorry.”

Darcy nodded glumly, not looking at him, “Me too. I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“I pushed,” Bucky pointed out, “A lot. I should have trusted that you know more than I do and you have reasons for the decisions you make. I won’t make that mistake again.”

She turned a wry smile his way this time, “Kind of a shitty way to learn that lesson.”

“Yeah,” he huffed out a small laugh, “I guess things are gonna get pretty bad for me, huh?”

“Bucky,” She put her hand on his arm but seemed to hesitate over the words.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me anything.” He quickly assured her.

“Yes,” She answered quietly, “Things are going to get pretty bad for you. Worse than you can imagine, in fact. So bad that they’ll still be talking about it in my time.”

Bucky looked at her, the sorrow and compassion and solid, unwavering determination in her gaze. He swallowed.

“But, Bucky,” She held his gaze unblinking, “That’s not the important part. The thing that matters, the thing that you need to remember, the thing you need to _believe;_ even when you’ve got nothing else left, even if you can’t remember your own name; remember this: _Steve will save you_. No matter how bad it gets, hold onto that. Steve Rogers _will_ save you. If you let him.”

Bucky stared into her eyes and heard the absolute certainty, the faith in her voice. He felt like her words sank into him, a heavy, cold anchor grounding him to this moment; like they were etching themselves into his soul as he met her gaze. _Steve will save you_.

He nodded slowly and attempted to quirk a half-hearted smile, “I already did. He’ll be in the recruitment office now.”

“Good,” She smiled in return, “And I do know how hard it is to watch him do that.”

“I still find it hard to believe he’s going to survive long enough to save anyone.” Bucky told her honestly.

“Really?” Darcy tilted her head to the side, “I don’t see why that would be surprising. He’s survived so much already, and he’s always been a hero.”

“I suppose,” Bucky conceded, “But I never liked watching it any other time either.”

“Well, you have some time to get used to the idea,” Darcy told him, “It’s not like they’re going to accept him any time soon.”

\--

Steve found them still sitting there half an hour later.

“They turned me down again,” He announced morosely as he settled beside them.

Bucky nodded, “I heard.”

“You heard?” Steve turned a confused look towards them, then focussed his sharp gaze on Darcy, “Just how much do you know about us?”

“I – Well,” Darcy hesitated, panicking, “It’s not like the alley we landed in was random. They had files for anyone they thought might be around when we landed.”

It was mostly true, she congratulated herself, though not actually related to his question.

“And you saw a file on me?” Steve asked, frowning.

“Um, sort of,” Darcy admitted, “I didn’t see much, barely got a glimpse. They weren’t exactly keen for me to see what they were working on.”

“What the hell kind of place did you come from?” Bucky asked, frowning at her.

Darcy looked down and then met his eyes again with a grim smile, “I can’t tell you that. But, trust me, I have a plan to deal with all of that when I get back there.”

Darcy couldn’t hide her wince at the slight exaggeration. Somehow, over the months that she’d learned how to lie better, she felt like she’d gotten worse at lying to these two.

“Can we not talk about that?” She asked, “There’s only another hour before I have to get to the train station. I’d rather not spend it thinking about anything remotely related to the future.”

Steve frowned at her, clearly not entirely happy with the explanation. Before he could question her further, Bucky stepped in, certain now, that the future was not something anyone needed to hear about.

“Well, that just leaves the past, then,” He dropped a friendly arm over Darcy’s shoulder, guiding her into a casual stroll along the path and forcing Steve to either follow or be left behind. “Did we ever tell you about the time Steve managed to break Curtis Jenkins jaw?”

“No,” Darcy smiled gratefully at Bucky, “I don’t believe I’ve heard that one.”

\--

Darcy refused to let them see her back to the train station. It was better, she insisted, if they didn’t know where she was heading, safer for all of them. Instead, she called a taxi and they said their goodbyes on the sidewalk outside Steve’s apartment.

It was a less tearful farewell this time, practiced as they were at them, having done it once before. They exchanged hugs, wished each other well, and hid all emotions as best they could. Without speaking, they agreed that now was not the time for heartfelt honesty and promises of love or dreams of seeing each other again.

The feelings between them hadn’t changed, Steve knew, but the pain of separation had numbed them slightly over the past months. They’d learned to live with it, worn down the sharp edges until the agony of separation became just a dull ache.

It would hurt too much to let those feelings back in just to lose her again.

The world was bigger than them, and the future would capture them all no matter how hard they fought it, no matter how they hid from it.

Finally, Darcy climbed in the cab with a last wave and a wavering smile.

She closed the door.

She left.

“Okay,” Steve said quietly, eyes still on the road where Darcy’s car had disappeared, “I’m ready now.”

He turned to face Bucky, finding a questioning look on his friend’s face.

“Set me up with whoever you want,” Steve told him, “It’s time for me to move on.”

 


	6. Is that a rhetorical question?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The general consensus about the last chapter seemed to be "oh, the feels". Not sure what it says about me as a human being that I get joy out of throwing people into emotional turmoil... but I really do.

“Are you scared?”

Howard’s voice cut through Darcy’s focus as she shoved one of the dining chairs that they’d dragged down into the basement lab a few feet to the left. She stepped back to the point marked on the floor with tape and frowned at the positioning.

“What are you talking about?” She asked distractedly, moving back to shift the chair forwards slightly, “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine.”

“That’s the eighth time you’ve moved that chair.” Howard pointed out, “I get it, you don’t know exactly where that goon was when you left. We have to allow for some movement in the five minutes you’ll skip anyway.”

“I just,” Darcy stepped back from the chair, running her fingers through her hair. “I have to get this right, there’s only one chance to get it right.”

“Hey,” Howard zigzagged between the chairs scattered through the room until he was beside her, “I’ve got this. I’m kind of brilliant, you know.”

“Yeah,” Darcy replied absently, still frowning at the chairs, trying to visualise the Hydra lab in the moment she’d left.

“Look, we’ve been busy with Project Rebirth, but that’s getting close to completion now. Once it’s solid I’ll have time to really get into this little problem.” Howard grabbed her shoulder and spun her to face him, “I can make a weapon that will take down a dozen guys without hurting you or your friend.”

He gestured towards the chair that they’d identified with some old bunting Howard had found when they’d cleared everything else out of the room.

Darcy stared at the chair, the Jane chair. Jane was counting on her to get this right, Jane’s life depended on it. Hell, everyone’s lives depended on it. If Darcy didn’t get this part right, then Hydra would just try this time-travel thing again and everything she’d done would be for nothing.

“There’s so much riding on this.” Her voice warbled over the whisper. She turned to look back at Howard and found him watching her with understanding in his eyes.

“I know that feeling,” He told her, “But I promise, by the time you get back, I will have a way for you to get out of this.”

Darcy nodded at him and closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted. She sank down into one of the chairs marking a Hydra goon’s position in the lab that didn’t exist yet.

She supposed he probably did understand, as much as anyone could. He had the war effort of multiple countries counting on him to hold back the fascist tide heading their way. He knew what it was to have the fate of the world on his shoulders.

“Yeah,” She said without opening her eyes, “I’m fucking terrified.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Howard asked directly.

Darcy looked up and quirked a brow at him, “You’re not really the consoling type, Howard.”

“Obviously,” He snorted, “I’m not going to claim I’ll do a good job of it, but you don’t exactly have an army of alternatives right now, so… I can try.” He shrugged.

Darcy looked down at her hands, picked at a spot of dirt under one of her nails. She didn’t know what she could say to him, what she should say to him. The truth was, she was terrified of so many things, and most of them she couldn’t talk about at all. Not here anyway, in this time.

She looked back up at the bunting draped chair. Maybe once she was done, once she got back to where she was meant to be, then she and Jane could go for a tequila night and she could talk about all the things she’d been packing away inside herself for so long.

If she got back.

There were so very many things between her and that.

Darcy blinked as tears blurred her eyes. All the things she could never say burning in her throat.

But there was one she could say, one so huge and consuming that woke her in the night and ate away at her during the day.

“I’m going to be so alone,” She whispered, a stab of fear bursting through her at the sound of the words she hadn’t spoken aloud before.

Beside her, Howard took a sharp breath in, held it for a moment, and then sighed loudly.

“Yeah, kid, you will be,” He agreed heavily.

She shot him a look, “Aren’t you meant to tell me I’m not alone?”

“Am I?” He frowned uncertainly, “I mean, you’re not alone now. I’m here, Peggy’s around, whatever mystery friends you went to visit last month. But now isn’t what you’re scared of, so how does that help you?”

“It doesn’t,” Darcy shook her head, “But it’s what consoling types would say anyway.”

“Well, I told you I wouldn’t be good at this.” Howard shrugged, “The truth is, you are going to be alone over there. Hell, you won’t even tell me where _there_ is. But you’re going undercover into enemy territory. It doesn’t get much more alone than that. So, I could give you some optimistic lie, but you’ll know it’s a lie. Is that what you want?”

Darcy turned to watch him for a moment, she didn’t want to hear the lies he would make up for her. She didn’t need to hear the truth either.

Maybe she just needed to _say_ the truth, while she still could, before her entire existence became a lie.

“I’m scared of what I’ll become,” She admitted, a thought that she’d been pushing back for months suddenly unable to be contained, “The things that I’ll have to do, the things I’ll have to _not_ do. I’m scared of what that will do to me.”

Howard made a small sound but cut himself off with a sigh, “Shit, Reese, I’ve got nothing consoling for that one. This is war. Officially, now, and everything. We’re all going to be killers by the end of it.”

Darcy dropped her head with a despondent nod, the tears overflowing now.

“But –” Howard took a breath and reached out to lay an awkward hand on her arm, “You are a good person. The things you’re trying to do here are beyond what anyone was ever meant to deal with. I knew about one tiny thing from the future and it nearly derailed everything I’ve worked for in my life. I have no idea how you’ve stayed sane this far knowing as much as you do.”

Darcy snorted and wiped at the tears on her cheeks, “Wow, comforting. You really do suck at this.”

“I mean,” Howard persevered, “That there is no one else that has ever or will ever exist that I would trust with this job more than you. You are a good person, and I believe that you will make the best possible decisions out of the worst possible options.”

“Well, I’ll do my best, anyway,” Darcy agreed with a sniff, “Then I’ll have to figure out how to live with myself afterward.”

“Whiskey?” Howard suggested, trying to lighten the mood.

“Hah, no.” Darcy shook her head, “I’ve seen enough of what that does to people long term. Alcoholism isn’t something to aim for.”

She looked over to find Howard frowning at his hand, still resting on her arm. She felt a warmth run through her at his somewhat failed attempt to comfort her.

“Besides,” She offered with a smile, “I prefer tequila.”

Howard made a disgusted sound, “Tequila? Really?”

“Always,” Darcy confirmed as she pushed herself up, “And you’re right, I’ve got this as close to right as I can get. Continuing to stare at these chairs and trying to remember a room I left over a year ago isn’t helping any of us.”

“Of course, I’m right,” Howard stood as well, “And I meant what I said, I’ll make you a way out of this.” He gestured at the chairs, encompassing all that they stood for.

“Thanks,” Darcy reached out to squeeze his arm in a much more relaxed way than he’d managed with her, “And thanks for listening. You are kind of terrible at comforting, but it means a lot that you tried.”

“Any time.” Howard offered, “But, you know, preferably not.”

“Obviously,” She agreed, making her way to the door, “Goodnight, Howard.”

“Night, kid,” Howard echoed. He turned to stare around the room at the scattered chairs, brain already ticking through ideas and calculations.

Darcy made her way upstairs into the main house, then up more stairs to the room she’d been staying in since she and Peggy had brought Howard in on her secret a few months ago. It was a considerable step up from the small room in Mrs Benthelwaite’s apartment. But, somehow, she missed that maddening woman.

Settling onto the edge of the bed, Darcy allowed herself to think for the first time about the fear that had slipped from her tonight.

What would this make her?

She’d done things already that the Darcy Lewis who’d volunteered for this mission would never have imagined. She’d sat back and watched as a woman died of a disease that she knew should be curable, unable to do anything to stop it.

Sitting back and doing nothing to stop it had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done, even though there hadn’t been anything she _could_ do to stop it. She’d had no way to save Sarah Rogers.

But there were ways to save Steve, to save Bucky. It was further away and harder to control, but there were things she could do to try to save Howard, too.

And she couldn’t.

Tears overflowed again as Darcy let her imagination show her all these people she cared about, dying while she watched.

She knew the risks, she knew her job here. She had to keep the future constant, even if it cost the lives of good people.

She didn’t know if she was strong enough to do it though, didn’t know if she would be able to keep going if this took another year, or more.

And who could she turn to when she wavered? Who could possibly convince her that this really was necessary when she lost all hope?

Darcy shoved herself up suddenly, lurching over to the desk. She brushed the tears furiously from her eyes as she dragged a piece of paper and a pen towards her.

She stared at the blank page for a moment, and then began writing.

\--

Darcy shuffled uncomfortably on her feet, second guessing her decision. She turned to leave, then shook her head and moved back to her previous spot.

After another moment, she spun to the doorway again, but stopped short as Howard walked through it.

“Hey, kid,” He glanced at her as he made his way over to his workbench, “All packed and ready to go? Need me to lock any other secrets up for safe keeping while you’re gone?”

Darcy hesitated, her doubts swirling through her head. But he’d made the offer.

“Yes.” She said.

Howard turned to frown at her, “What, really? I thought all your secrets were in your head now since you burned that book Peggy so desperately wanted to read.”

“You meant it, right?” Darcy asked instead of answering him, “When you said that you don’t want to know the future? It’s not just a phase you’re going to get over? You really, definitely, long term don’t want to know anything?”

“Yeah,” Howard answered slowly, “I’m pretty solid on that decision. Why?”

Darcy slid the envelope she held between her fingers.

“I think I might need this,” She indicated the envelope in her hands with a small gesture, “Later. When things get… harder… I think I might need to read this. And I can’t take it with me, for obvious reasons, but I can’t leave it hidden somewhere that it could be stumbled across accidentally. And I cannot, _cannot_ leave it with anyone who would be tempted to read it. What’s in here… it’s beyond dangerous.”

Howard gave her a speculative look, “So you want me to hold onto that, somewhere no one else can get at, never read it, and then just give it back if you ask for it?”

“I… yes.” Darcy nodded. “Key part there, never read it. Seriously, Howard, I’m sure there are things you are tempted to know about the future, what’s in here is not that. You do _not_ want to know what’s in here.”

“Okay,” Howard shrugged easily, holding out a hand, “I’ve got a safe no one knows about. Which you also don’t get to know about, so hand it over and I’ll put it away safe and sound where even you won’t know how to find it.”

Darcy reached out slowly but stopped with the envelope just out of his reach. “You won’t read it?”

“Never.” He promised, solemnly.

“You couldn’t if you wanted to,” Darcy warned him, “It’s written in a code you’ll never crack.”

“Of course it is.” Howard agreed amiably, hand still held out.

Darcy hesitated for a second longer, then put the envelope gently in his palm.

Howard closed his hand around it carefully and gestured for her to turn and leave.

Darcy stood for one more wavering moment, considering all the ways this could go wrong, then she turned and walked away.

\--

Peggy picked her up that afternoon.

Howard stood with her by the front door while they watched her car pull up the driveway.

“Thanks for letting me stay with you,” Darcy said sincerely, “It’s been nice not having to worry about pretending to be something I’m not, even if it was only for a little while.”

“No problem,” Howard answered, “Thanks for reminding me to eat and sleep most days.”

“That’s my natural-born talent,” Darcy smiled.

“You sure you don’t want someone other than Agent Proper over there knowing where you are?” Howard asked with a frown.

Darcy nodded, “I’m sure. This goes beyond normal undercover work. There can’t be any records of me for them to follow back here.”

“Well, you change your mind, you’ve got my number.” Howard offered.

“Thanks,” Darcy followed her impulse and darted in for a quick hug. Howard seemed surprised by the motion, standing ram-rod straight for the few seconds she held him, “You’re a surprisingly decent human for an egotistical misogynist.”

Howard snorted as she stepped back, “Don’t tell anyone, they’ll all come looking for a personalised weapon to defeat their time-travelling kidnappers.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Darcy promised.

 “Ready?” Peggy asked, arriving at the step below them.

Darcy nodded, picking up her small suitcase. It had been carefully packed with the kinds of things that would match the life she was stepping into, not quite like any of the lives she’d lived.

Three steps down, she stopped and turned back.

“Actually, Howard,” She called up to him, “That thing we talked about this morning. It’s way too big a risk for something so stupid. Destroy it?”

Howard frowned at her but nodded slowly, “If you’re sure.”

“Very,” Darcy promised, though she wasn’t, “Burn it.”

“Consider it done.” He agreed.

Darcy nodded once more and turned back to the car. Peggy shot her a questioning look as she opened the trunk for Darcy’s suitcase. Darcy ignored her and loaded the luggage into the car. They had a long enough drive ahead of them, there would be plenty of time for questions.

Peggy stopped her as she moved to get into the car, holding out a hand. “The book?”

Darcy sighed, “I told you I wouldn’t give it to you. It held too many things.”

“You certainly can’t take it with you,” Peggy reminded her.

“Nope,” Darcy agreed, wrenching the car door open and squeezing past Peggy to climb in, “I burned it.”

She closed the door in Peggy’s shocked face, fighting to hold back a smirk. She gave up and let out a small snort.

Peggy marched around the car and climbed in on the driver’s side.

“That book held everything we know about the enemy’s plan. I understand your concerns that we may act differently if we know the future, but there is someone actively trying to change events and it is incredibly unwise to let that go unchecked.” Peggy spoke with the crisp, contained fury of a woman who had fought for a place in a world that would take any opportunity to accuse her of being emotional.

“Oh, lighten up, Peg,” Darcy grinned and pulled a sheaf of paper out of her pocket, “I’m not an idiot. I copied out the parts that you’ll need to know before I burned the parts you can’t.”

“Ah,” Peggy paused and then reached out to accept the pages, “You could have simply said that.”

“What fun would that be?” Darcy asked.

\--

They stood together, staring across at the plane that would carry Darcy to London where arrangements had been made to smuggle her into occupied France. Peggy had contacts in the French Resistance who would help Darcy make her way towards Austria, where they knew Pinstripes was heading.

But it would be up to Darcy to worm her way into Hydra itself and find him.

It was an unimaginably huge task. And if she got it wrong, then the future was doomed.

She should have been used to the feeling by now, but she wasn’t. She still felt horrifically out of her depth and unprepared.

But she was also still the only person who could do this, and the alternative was unthinkable.

“Are you ready?” Peggy asked gently.

Darcy swallowed. She wasn’t. She never would be. But that wasn’t an option, so instead she gave the same answer she’d given the last time she found herself standing on the precipice of a mission into the unknown to save the world.

“Let’s get this shit over with.”


	7. Left Behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where we (finally) intersect with actual movie events. I wasn't really interested in copying down what happens on screen, so it mostly skips between off screen things or other perspectives. I'm assuming you all know what happens in the parts I didn't bother writing.

The third attempt was the worst.

Really, he should have known better than to try in the middle of winter. His lungs had been struggling to keep up for weeks, but Steve had gotten so used to the wheezing and coughing that he’d stopped really noticing it himself. That was just what normal felt like for him.

The doctor at the recruitment office, however, had heard Steve’s audible wheezing as he was on his way towards another volunteer and had grabbed Steve’s file on the way past and stamped the 4F without even looking at it.

It was disheartening, but Steve was as determined as ever. He’d made up his mind the day Bucky had been drafted and he wasn’t going to change it now.

He would, however, accept that the next attempt would have to wait until spring. He had no chance of convincing anyone his asthma wasn’t an issue until the snows melted.

It had been 4 weeks since Bucky had left for training. His conscription letter had arrived about a week after his number was pulled, with a date for him to report by and instructions to pack for a few days.

Before he’d even gone to the appointment, bombs had fallen on Pearl Harbour.

With the country suddenly at war, there had been hardly a moment between Bucky being accepted into the army and carted off for training. They didn’t even let them come home for Christmas.

Steve now had to resign himself to the fact that Bucky would be done with training and possibly even on his way overseas before Steve could hope to join up.

It was a long slow wait.

He did everything he could to help with the war effort and the people struggling closer to home. He filled his days as much as he could, dreading the hours he found himself alone, when the feelings of uselessness and isolation crept in.

He wasn’t useless. Besides work he was volunteering for anything that would take him, checking on the neighbours whose family members had already headed off to fight. He wasn’t alone either. There were all sorts of people around him who cared, who checked up on him, who kept him company and invited him to distracting things.

But they weren’t Bucky. They weren’t Billie. They weren’t his mother.

It was hard to believe sometimes that it had been over a year since his mother died. A part of him still expected to see her when he stumbled out of bed in the morning, or to catch sight of her crossing the street.

And then it passed a year since Billie had left New York, and Steve knew he needed to let them all go a little more. He had the here and the now to focus on, and a plan to join the army that wouldn’t fulfil itself.

He went out with friends, wrangled them into helping out with the fundraising and various drives going on.

But it was a different kind of friendship. Steve always felt like he was holding something of himself back from these friends, uncertain how it would be received.

Maybe that was his own fault, but it wasn’t something he knew how to turn off.

He tried to keep an open mind about dating, too, but no one seemed particularly open minded about dating him.

He’d known he wasn’t seen as the greatest catch. The general expectation was that one of these winters would kill him sooner rather than later.

He’d always figured it would be an uphill battle to convince any girl to give him a chance.

Then Billie had come along and made him believe, for a moment, that he was worth more than that.

It was hard to find himself right back in the same place, but without Bucky to back him up anymore.

Two more letters came from Bucky while Steve waited for the temperature to rise and his lungs to ease. The second gave the date Bucky would be heading back to New York, training complete, to wait for his orders to ship out.

It wasn’t likely to be a long wait; with the Declaration of United Nations formalised and signed, US troops were now moving out in force.

Steve could only hope he would be able to volunteer before Bucky left. Even if he wouldn’t be able to ship out with him, it would be worth so much to be able to promise that he would follow soon.

In the end, they only had a few days together before Bucky was told to report in to receive his orders. Steve decided that made it the best day to try to enlist once more. If he could just get that craved 1A before Bucky left, then at least he’d know that Steve was coming after him.

He was ready this time. His health had been better for weeks. He’d been practicing breathing deep and even without triggering a coughing fit. This time, he was certain, he would do it.

He was wrong.

It was hard to hold onto hope after this one. Last time, there’d been something he could work on, something he could aim to fix.

But this was the healthiest he’d been in years. If he couldn’t get in today…

He’d promised himself, and Bucky, that he would keep trying, that he would try as many times as it took. And he would, he knew.

But now, all he could see was himself, still trying years from now. Still failing.

Even in his gloom, he knew that a heckler at the movies wasn’t really worth getting in a fight over, but today, he just needed to do _something_. If this was the only way he could fight the rising bigotry, then he’d fight this with everything he had.

The rational part of his brain knew it was probably good that Bucky found them when he did. If Steve had gotten seriously hurt, then the chances of getting into the army would drop even more.

But a part of him still resented needing to be rescued. He hated feeling so helpless.

 “Why are you still chasing that?” Bucky asked as they made their way to the expo. His voice was filled with frustration, “How many times are they going to have to tell you no?”

“As many times as it takes for them to tell me yes.” Steve replied, unphased.

“Come on, Steve.” Bucky rolled his eyes, “It isn’t worth all this. Staying here isn’t anything to be ashamed of.”

“Of course it’s worth it,” Steve glared at Bucky, determined, “You heard what she said.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, “And I also heard how many times she insisted that she wasn’t certain about the future, and I noticed how much she didn’t say, like that either of us would actually come home if you join up.”

“She made it clear enough what would happen if I don’t, though,” Steve disputed.

“I don’t care,” Bucky shook his head, fear leeching into his expression, “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it during training. My life isn’t worth more than yours, Steve. You’re my best friend. I don’t want to be the reason that you die.”

Steve looked at Bucky and sighed, “Well, then you know exactly how I feel, too.”

“Is there anything I can say to talk you out of this?” Bucky asked, hopeless.

“No,” Steve answered promptly, “I’ve made up my mind. But it’s not just for you. I made up my mind long before Billie let slip that little fact. Hell, I had my mind mostly made up before she slipped up the first time and mentioned how much this war really matters. I can’t sit back and do nothing while people are dying, Bucky. Not just you, any people. I won’t.”

Bucky sighed, then shook his head and pushed an unconvincing smile onto his face, “Fine, but I can’t just sit back and do nothing while you throw your life away. If you’re so certain nothing can change your mind, then you’ll just have to get used to hearing me try.”

And he did try. He spent the whole evening dropping pointed comments about the important jobs at home, about different kinds of fighters, about heroes needed on all fronts.

It wasn’t very subtle, but since it became clear very quickly that Steve wasn’t connecting with the date Bucky had found for him, he wasn’t too concerned what they might think of him.

The only opinion he cared about was the US army. And he’d keep going back until they gave the right answer.

All he needed was a chance.

\--

Peggy scanned her eyes down the line of soldiers arrayed in front of her while Colonel Phillips gave his only mildly inspiring welcome speech.

The best of the best, they’d been promised. She’d read through every file several times, noting the strengths, the weaknesses. The most promising and the least remarkable. Many of them were, in fact, interchangeable, as she’d warned Reese so many weeks ago.

But some of them stood out.

She found her gaze drawn to the smallest man in the group. Rogers, she knew, who had been personally selected by Dr Erskine.

He was certainly an oddity.

She wasn’t sure yet what the doctor saw in this man, but among the rowdy behemoths that made up the rest of the candidates, Steven Rogers would be easy to keep track of.

Each of the leaders at the camp were making their own notes about the candidates, to be compared in the final week when the decision would be made about who the first trial would be.

She noted Hodge’s inability to learn from his mistakes, Kirkpatrick’s difficulty with respecting women, Hitchens’ tendency towards ill-advised practical jokes.

The first thing she noted about Rogers was his determination. The man seemed incapable of giving up, no matter how impossible the task set before him seemed.

Jacobsen’s habit of keeping an eye on those around him, helping them quietly if he could, was recorded. Ivanovich’s attempts to deflect the more disorderly soldiers’ attentions from the women on base who preferred to stay out of such interactions, Park’s skill at settling disputes and bringing everyone back into friendly spirits.

Rogers’ intelligence, his ingenuity, his total conviction that they were doing the right thing, his willingness to pause and consider the best solution to a problem rather than simply charging at the most obvious one.

While Colonel Phillips and Dr Erskine had made it clear early on who they’d each prefer, Peggy had told them she would hold back judgement until she’d had a chance to fully review each contender.

As the days wore on, and more tests were completed, Peggy found herself drawn towards Dr Erskine’s choice, but she feared choosing incorrectly. She didn’t have the final say in the matter, there were several more people on the committee and her vote would not be the tie breaker between Erskine and Phillips, but her opinion was valued by many others.

Reese had refused to tell her much about what was to come here, but it had been very clear that this decision was incredibly important. If they chose wrong, if _she_ chose wrong, then the whole future could be in peril.

So, she tallied every possible attribute for each candidate, certain that she couldn’t rule anyone out until every possible test had been run.

But the test that hadn’t been on her list, the one that Colonel Phillips had thrown at everyone without warning, made all the rest unnecessary.

The world had slowed around her as the grenade rolled across the grass. She watched the men scatter, her feet moving so much slower than she needed them to.

She saw the one soldier who dived towards danger instead of away.

And she remembered the only clue Reese had given her.

_You don’t need a great soldier, you need a hero. That’s a different thing entirely._

At the time, Peggy hadn’t understood what the difference was, hadn’t known how she might be able to spot a hero amongst so many potentials.

But Reese had been right, it was easy to see now that it was right in front of her.

And it was easy for everyone else to see, as well. There was no need for her to fight for Rogers to be chosen. After that display, even Colonel Phillips put him forward as the best choice.

It was no contest at all.

\--

After Dr Erskine left, taking the schnapps with him, Steve lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Tomorrow everything would change.

Super-soldier they were calling it. And Steve would be the test case, proof of concept.

If it worked.

If it didn’t, then Steve could end up disabled, disfigured, dead.

Was he crazy for even considering this?

He believed in Dr Erskine, and he believed in the science, and, above all, he believed that with the serum he could finally do some real good in the world.

He could save lives.

He could save Bucky.

But the odds weren’t great. They’d explained them in detail when they’d given him the forms to sign absolving the army of any potential consequences. This whole thing could go terribly wrong, and then he wouldn’t be able to help anyone.

He thought of Billie, of the future that she’d come from, that she fought so hard to protect.

Was this moment a part of that future? Had she seen his name listed in some history book as the first in an army of super soldiers? Or the tragic failure of one of the great hopes for turning the tides of the war?

He had no idea if she knew he would be here, no idea if she’d think it was smart to sign up for this.

But he knew what she’d say, if he could ask her what he should do.

She’d tell him that she couldn’t sway his decision one way or the other. She’d tell him that he’d made his own mind up weeks ago, the moment he’d heard the options. She’d just give him a look that said clearer than words _you know what to do_.

She’d always seen him as a hero, long before anyone else had spotted the potential. Whether she had knowledge of the future or not, she wouldn’t be surprised by his decision.

Tomorrow, he would hand himself over to science regardless of the risks.

Tomorrow, he would put his fate in the hands of others in the hope that it would give him the power to save people.

Tomorrow, he would become something more than just Steve Rogers.

Tomorrow, one way or another, he would become history.

 


	8. Working for the Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time is a very different thing in this story than it was in the last one. The first story is all pretty condensed, time wise. This one is much more spread out. Since I'm not writing pretty much anything that happens on screen in the movie, we skip whole months at a time. I have a spreadsheet to try and keep it straight, though I've avoided putting actual dates in. Instead, I drop references to give vague ideas about the timing of everything.
> 
> Basically, what I'm saying is: don't expect this chapter to follow directly from the last. I hope you like it anyway.

Darcy wove her way between the desks cluttering the small room. She offered greetings and smiles to each person she passed, collecting pages of messages as she moved along.

She stopped to discuss lipstick with Ingrid, paused to ask Heinrich if his baby was sleeping better, slipped a square of chocolate to Marie on the way past.

Six months she’d been working undercover for Hydra. She’d thought she was prepared, when she started, for the sneaking and the lying and the being surrounded by enemies.

She hadn’t expected it to be so… normal.

It was so much like every other job she’d ever had. There were boring tasks that took hours but no brain power, the sudden chaos when everything needed to be done at once, office politics and team bonding.

There were days when she almost forgot that everyone around her was working towards the goal of wiping out entire peoples.

There were a few people here she had to repeatedly remind herself couldn’t be her friends. Just because they avoided certain conversation and seemed uncomfortable, or just plain ignorant, about parts of what they were doing, didn’t mean they weren’t still the enemy.

Tyranny relied on the common people being unwilling to risk what comforts they had.

And it worked. Time and time again, tyranny returned in the same ways.

Some of the others in her team made it hard to forget, dropping derogatory terms and ‘heil Hitlers’ and disturbing jokes at any opportunity. It was still a struggle every day to laugh at the things she knew they found funny, to swallow back the bile at the thought of the suffering these people were causing.

But she did it, because this job was key to her entire mission.

The base she worked at was small, and distant from actual fighting, but its location at a key point in the supply train for multiple parts of the front line meant that a huge volume of supplies and information passed through here.

Darcy had started in the communications team, encoding and decoding messages but not actioning anything. She’d quickly set herself apart, though, with both her skill at managing people – if she could convince Jane Foster to shower semi-regularly, she could convince anyone to do anything – and her experience of smuggling illicit goods – thank you, Mr Fernandez – helping her rise quickly through the ranks.

Now, she was in a key position within a key base. She had access to almost all messages going across the German military, as well as the kind of information about troop numbers and movements that were only apparent from the supply logs.

And, she’d managed to get a solid line on all communications Pinstripes was sending. She knew he was based a few days from her location, though it wasn’t a place she could just wander into. She hadn’t yet worked out how to get to him, but she could, for the most part, counteract any actions he took.

It wasn’t simple. His messages were frequently coded before the cipher was layered on top, and there were some she hadn’t been able to work out yet. She was particularly concerned about something he called _the pinnacle_ , which was apparently well underway but had never been mentioned with any other information to help her identify it. But other than that, she’d mostly managed to track what he was trying to do to the timelines.

There was just one problem.

No, that was a lie, there were a million problems. The whole thing was a problem.

But there was one particularly haunting problem.

She couldn’t do enough about the other information she held.

Everything she got her hands on that she knew Pinstripes had touched was passed along through the few contacts they trusted to go back to Peggy. Darcy’s main job was to be the equal and opposite action to anything Pinstripes tried to change.

But there was so much else that passed through her hands, things that were important, things that could save lives. And so much of it couldn’t be changed.

Part of that was inherent in being a spy – she had to play the long game, protecting her cover. When she had information that could save a few lives, she had to remember that if she was caught then there would be no one here to get the information that could save thousands of lives.

But there was the added complication that Darcy didn’t know how much of an effect her own actions here could have on the timeline. She needed to preserve the future. She needed things to go ahead as close to the same as possible. She could react to Pinstripes motions trusting that anything he tried to do she wanted to stop, but she couldn’t try to change the actions of the people who belonged in the here and now.

It seemed so selfish sometimes. Hell, it seemed selfish all the fucking time. She was just one person, and there were millions of lives on the line. So, so many people would die in this war, and she was just letting it all happen.

She tried to remind herself of all the reasons why this was the right move.

She told herself that she wasn’t one person, she was every person in the future. She was Jane and Eric. She was her Mom and Dad. She was the barista that knew her order without having to ask, the kid who came by to sell cookies a week before she was kidnapped by Hydra, and everyone else who was meant to exist sometime after this. She was the sole representative for billions of people who had a right to live.

But what made their lives more important than the ones dying now?

Just the fact that, in some reality that she barely felt connected to anymore, these people had already died.

She also reminded herself that she _was_ only one person, there was only so much she could do about the things she knew. Half the time, when she did pass information along to Peggy, the people in charge decided it wasn’t worth the risk to act on it anyway. Peggy was better at seeing the big picture than she was, better at knowing when acting on this piece of information would put her position, and their continuing source of information, at too much risk.

It kept her going, reminding herself of these things, but it never made her feel better.

It made her feel monstrous. Choosing whose lives were worth saving, weighing up people against information or against possible futures that she wasn’t sure she could count on anymore.

She barely felt human these days.

And still, she got up bleary eyed in the morning, got dressed in office attire, commiserated with colleagues about workloads, went drinking whenever the option was available. Laughed. Danced.

Lived.

Lived while so many others were dying.

It was such a strange existence. Every day Darcy felt like a stranger to herself, every day she wanted to scream and cry. She wanted to run and never look back. But she couldn’t let anyone around her see the thoughts and feelings within her. She couldn’t let anyone glimpse her disgust for the things they stood for. She had to smile and pretend she agreed with things she could barely bring herself to say out loud.

It was driving her slowly, and not so slowly, crazy.

She could barely remember who she’d been before all of this. She wondered if she’d be able to find that person again when it was all over.

If she survived that long.

Today, for the first time in longer than she could bear to think about, she would actually get a chance to be herself.

For months, she’d pretended. She’d plastered on the smiles, perfected the accents, pandered to the right people. She barely got half an hour to herself any day, with work colleagues during the day and a roommate to contend with at night.

She cried in the shower, the only time she could be sure of the privacy.

Today, though, would be different. The cover stories were set, the plans in motion. Today, she would be catching a train to go meet with some well connected and very paranoid smugglers who could be a great asset to the Nazi war effort.

Smugglers who were working both sides equally and happened to insist on meeting on neutral ground.

Somewhere Peggy Carter could get to as well.

Today, for the first time since she’d arrived in mainland Europe, Darcy would be face to face with someone who actually knew who she was.

Well, as much as anyone knew who she was here. There still wasn’t anyone to call her by her real name, to reminisce about old adventures, to share Darcy’s grief, to remind her of who she was, who she could have been.

Peggy would call her Reese. The thick-skinned, battle hardened time-traveller who put the fate of the whole world above everything else.

Darcy wasn’t sure what she hated more, feeling like that was a lie, or realising that it was becoming the truth. She was becoming that person.

She hated that person.

Darcy smiled instinctively as Marie wished her luck on her trip. The rest of the team didn’t know exactly where she was going, just that she’d managed to make contact with someone the top brass wanted on their side, and that the results of the trip could change everything for Darcy.

If everything went well, Darcy could get out of this place, where she felt horrifyingly normal.

To the next place, where she couldn’t imagine things would be any better.

\--

Darcy sat at the bar, using every technique Peggy ever taught her to stop herself from fidgeting with nerves.

The meeting with the smugglers had gone well. They had agreed to the terms she’d been authorised to offer but had also insisted that she be their only contact point. Darcy may have dropped a few comments to encourage them in that direction.

Which meant she would be heading back to Hydra victorious.

It made her feel sick.

She sipped at the drink she’d ordered, barely tasting it.

Nausea was a familiar feeling to her these days. Everything she did made her feel sick.

Someone jostled Darcy from behind and Darcy froze as she felt warm liquid drop suddenly across her back.

“Oh, no! Oh, goodness, I am so sorry,” A voice cried from behind her in French-accented German, “I am so, so sorry. I can’t believe I did that.”

Darcy turned, unable to breathe, to find the first familiar face she’d seen in months.

“Please,” Peggy reached out and grasped her arm, manners entirely unlike Agent Carter’s, “My room is just upstairs, please let me fix this. I can lend you something to wear while the hotel can surely clean this out?” The last was directed at the bartender, who was already rushing over with napkins.

“Of course, Madame,” The bartender assured them, “I will alert the staff to the urgency of the situation.”

Darcy couldn’t think of what she would be expected to say in this situation, but apparently the bartender found her shock to be a reasonable response, as he helped her gently to her feet. He and Peggy lead her from the room, stopping to collect a valet in the lobby who was instructed to follow them up and wait outside for the soiled dress.

Peggy kept up a running stream of apologies and horror at the event as they made their way up the stairs and into one of the hotel rooms.

Once inside, Peggy dropped her arm, and the act, striding over to a suitcase and collecting a robe which she handed to Darcy.

Within moments, Darcy was stripped of her wine-stained dress and watched as Peggy handed it out the door to the valet, extracting a promise to have it returned, clean and dry within an hour.

Once he’d left, Peggy shut the door and turned back to face her.

“Well,” She smiled, “That went smoothly.”

Darcy felt tears well in her eyes at the sight of the woman she trusted more than any in this era.

“Hi,” She whispered in a shaky voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep thinking I'm almost finished this story. For weeks I've felt like I just have a bit more and then the whole first draft will be complete. Turns out it just always takes more words than I think it will to get something down. I have been really, completely certain for ages that I knew exactly how many chapters there would be. Nope! Had to add a new one yesterday. This time, though, this time I'm really certain I know how many chapters it will be.
> 
> Someday, I will actually get this entire stupid thing down in words. Someday. Soon. Hopefully. (If it sounds like I'm slightly over it, that's because I've written almost all the fun bits and just have to slog through some gaps that are proving difficult. I tend to skip ahead when I get stuck, but now there's nothing left to skip to)
> 
> Can I count these unusually verbose notes towards my word count today?


	9. Friendly Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT, I DID IT!
> 
> By which I mean, here, have a chapter. You want a chapter, right?

Peggy held her until her tears subsided and her sobs eased into hiccups.

“That bad?” Peggy asked gently as she rubbed Darcy’s back in soothing motions.

Darcy leaned forward to grab a tissue from the box that Peggy had collected from the bathroom before settling them on the sofa.

“I don’t know how people can do this,” Darcy admitted, voice still think with tears, “I don’t know how I’m doing this.”

“By remembering that this is important, terrible as it may feel, what you are doing is saving lives.” Peggy told her firmly, but not without sympathy. “And much as I’d like to let you have as long as it takes to let all of it out, I’m afraid we simply don’t have the time. We may never get an opportunity again for a full debrief like this. I’m sorry, but I need you to pull yourself together and report.”

“Right,” Darcy sniffed, forcing the tears back and ordering her thoughts. “Okay, I guess we start with Pinstripes.”

Peggy listened attentively as Darcy summarised everything that she knew about what her quarry was doing and where he was. She asked for additional details here and there, careful questions to bring the picture together.

“Well, I suppose it’s good that he seems to be aiming for subtle,” Peggy spoke thoughtfully when Darcy was done. “He could have chosen to announce his fore-knowledge to everyone and started attacking carelessly, instead he, like you, seems to be trying to preserve much of history.”

“He’s not a careless person.” Darcy agreed, “His plans and notes make that very clear. This was always meant to be a calculated assassination which he thought would be over in minutes. They’d taken time to calculate the risks of removing one target from history, but I don’t think he wants to remove any others without careful consideration. For most people on the planet, he doesn’t know what effect they have on the future to risk changing it.”

“It’s fortunate that the assassination attempts you’ve been able to catch and pass along to us were alluded to in the notes you stole from him. Hopefully, he’ll assume we’ve managed to stop them all because of that and won’t guess that you’re listening in on his plans.” Peggy sighed, “We’ll have to assume that he’ll figure it out at some point. The best way to protect your cover is to make you look unquestionably loyal. I’ll start passing you information to leak to them. Things that will be completely accurate but won’t cost us much. That should cement you as loyal and useful in their eyes.”

“You want me to _give_ them information?” Darcy asked, sickened at the thought.

“Yes,” Peggy answered simply, “It’s a necessary part of making this work and it will only be information that I’ve carefully considered. Now, have you caught any hints that he might have told someone he’s from the future? Any indication of an ally from this time helping him?”

Darcy shrugged, “Not that I can tell, but, like you said, he’s going for subtle. Any allies he’d pick would be people he trusted to keep it quiet. I imagine if he’d tried to tell someone like Schmidt or Zola he could have gotten into their inner circle long before this, but instead he’s sitting out in a peripheral base of only moderate importance. Just like me. For whatever reason, I don’t think he wants Hydra overall to know about him.”

“But he could have someone like me,” Peggy pointed out, “Helping off the record, able to keep it secret. If so, he could have prepared them to arrange attacks without him, or long after he’s gone. He could have fore-warned them of events decades from now that he’d like to change.”

“Well, I gave you all of the pages of his notebook that included dates like that,” Darcy reminded her, “And, yeah, there could be things he never wrote down, but considering how much he did write down, things that he definitely would have known off the top of his head anyway, it doesn’t seem so likely.”

“Yes, I suppose it’s a risk we’ll simply have to keep watching for,” Peggy agreed, frowning in thought. “As is this ‘pinnacle’ that you haven’t been able to identify. And as for this base that he’s had a part in building, are you confident you can get more information about that?”

“I could,” Darcy confirmed cautiously “I mean, the meeting with the smugglers went well. Couldn’t have planned for better, honestly. Once I report back with this, I’m expecting they’ll offer me the job there. Wagner’s been dropping the least subtle hints about it.”

“And that would be an integral role in setting up the base?” Peggy asked.

“Right,” Darcy nodded, “It’s being built around a town that no one had ever heard of, hidden in the mountains. Apparently, it’s incredibly difficult to get to by land and not visible from the air. I’ve heard mixed and mostly implausible rumours about how hard it is to find.”

“It’s odd, though,” Peggy frowned, “I can see the advantage defensively, but it can’t be a large place. I’d think the area inside will make its usefulness fairly limited.”

“Yeah,” Darcy agreed, “I can’t work out the strategy behind it either. But since we know that Pinstripes had a hand in choosing the location, I have to assume there’s something we don’t know about what will happen there in the future.”

Peggy sighed and stood, pacing as she thought.

“You need to get that transfer,” She concluded after a moment, “If they offer you the job, take it. And if they don’t, find a way to make them.”

“I’m not so sure,” Darcy hedged, “I mean, the ultimate goal has to be getting to Pinstripes. That’s the only way to really end this. But taking that job would mean moving further away from him, geographically speaking. I know it’s closer hierarchically, but what good does that do me really?”

Peggy shook her head, “It does no good to take out Pinstripes unless you also undermine any and all work he’s done here. We may not know why, but we know that he has spent a great deal of effort ensuring this new base is built. Unlike some of his other attempts at guiding things, we haven’t been able to stop this one. Which means you’ll need to be there to stop things in the moment, whenever the moment happens to come.”

Darcy sighed. She knew Peggy was right, but she also knew that moving away from Pinstripes location meant it would be even longer before this mission of hers was finally over.

“I don’t know if I can put up with this for that long,” Darcy admitted.

“You can,” Peggy told her, with a tone that didn’t allow for disagreement, “You’ve made it this far, so much farther than you thought you could when you first started training with me. This is the hardest part. Soon, you’ll get used to living this way.”

“I don’t want to get used to this,” Darcy looked up tears edging her eyes again, “I don’t want this to be my new normal.”

Peggy sat beside her with a sigh and picked up her hand, “I know. I know you feel like you’re losing yourself behind this façade. I know you’re scared of the person you think you’re becoming.

“But you’re wrong,” Peggy met her gaze with a determined look, “You are still the same person you’ve always been. The girl who volunteered to follow an enemy agent back in time to save millions of lives. This job you’re doing now may be harder than you could have imagined, but everything you do is still fuelled by the same goals. You care about people, about the future, about the world that we live in and the one that we _could_ live in. Marta Braun is not who you are. You are still the same Hermione who got my plane diverted, the same Reese who refused to give Howard tips on technology, the same whatever-name-you-used who listened to the draft numbers daily thinking of friends you can’t have known long. You are a good person, and that is why you can keep doing this for as long as it takes.”

Darcy took a deep breath, trying to hold onto Peggy’s words, trying to remember them for later when she knew she’d need them again. But there was another thought in her mind now, one she couldn’t help but voice.

“How is Steve?” She asked.

“Steve?” Peggy looked at her in confusion, and then her gaze sharpened in understanding, “Steve Rogers was the friend you listened to the draft numbers for?”

“One of them,” Darcy admitted.

Peggy stared at her in exasperation and shock for several moments as she processed this information. Then her jaw tightened.

“Did you know Dr Erskine was going to die?” She asked tightly.

“No,” Darcy shook her head, “I knew Steve would be the only one, but I never knew why.”

“If you’d warned us,” Peggy’s voice was taught with anger now, “We could have taken steps to protect the science, to ensure that the project could continue beyond just Steve Rogers.”

Darcy shook her head, “Not if I want to protect the future.”

“We need the super-soldiers to win this war,” Peggy argued.

“No,” Darcy answered, sure about this in a way she wasn’t about much else these days, “You have everything you need.”

“Steve Rogers is just a propaganda machine,” Peggy told her, exasperated, “Politicians parade him out all over America.”

“Do you really believe that?” Darcy asked, and saw the way Peggy looked away, unable to back up the words she’d spoken. “He’s meant for more than that, you know. Steve Rogers is all the super-solider you could ever want. He just needs someone to give him a chance, to believe in him.”

A sudden knock on the door startled both of them and Peggy took a moment to pull herself together, dropping into the character she’d started the evening as. Darcy stood from the sofa and slipped out of sight of the door as Peggy opened it and thanked the person on the other side.

She came to the bathroom door holding Darcy’s dress, with an apologetic expression, though Darcy could still see the banked anger lurking in her eyes. It wasn’t surprising. Peggy had always hated being kept out of the loop.

“I’m sorry for my outburst,” She offered, “It was inappropriate. I’m disappointed that you didn’t attempt to safe-guard Project Rebirth, but I understand you are working to protect a future that I cannot understand.”

She handed over the dress and gestured towards the vanity, “You can borrow my makeup. You’ll need to hide the traces of any crying before you leave.”

With that, Peggy left Darcy to change and make herself presentable.

Darcy stared at herself for a moment after Peggy left. Great, now she’d pissed off the only person on the planet who actually knew where she was and what she was doing. She should never have mentioned Steve. She couldn’t have done what Peggy wanted, there wasn’t space for any extra super soldiers in the future, but perhaps if she’d kept it to herself…

No, Darcy stopped herself from thinking that way. She’d always hated lying, even lying by omission was like an irritant to her. It itched to keep things from people she trusted.

And she did trust Peggy. She wanted to be able to tell her the truth.

She was hiding so much already.

Darcy would just have to hope that Peggy could forgive her for the things she’d done and the things she would have to do.

Once she was presentable, Darcy slipped out of the bathroom. She clutched her skirt to hide her trembling hands, desperately trying to reign in the myriad emotions that had escaped her this evening.

When she reached the main room, she found Peggy already speaking to another valet, character firmly in place.

“It was lovely to meet you, dear,” Peggy gave a quick kiss to each of Darcy’s cheeks, ushering her gently towards the door. “And I am so sorry, again, for the that little accident. Fortunately, the hotel has arranged a taxi for you, so you won’t miss your train.”

Darcy forced herself to plaster her own character on, thanking Peggy for her kindness. She’d known they had little time left. There could well be people watching her here since Hydra wasn’t renowned for trusting people, and she did in fact have to catch the train soon.

But she’d hoped they’d at least be able to clear the air before she departed.

Perhaps Peggy didn’t want to clear the air.

Darcy glanced back once more as she followed the valet down the stairs. She caught Peggy’s eye as she closed the door. She thought perhaps she saw understanding there, empathy, but she wondered if she only saw what she hoped to.

But then, would that be so bad? She was heading back into the heart of the enemy where she had no allies, no freedoms, no support. And Peggy would still be her only point of contact, so would it be so bad to believe the woman could forgive her?

Darcy dropped her gaze as she followed the valet out of the building and climbed into the waiting cab as he held the door. She took care to offer all the right words and smiles, accent perfect, façade unbreakable, just as she’d been taught.

Peggy’s friendship was one of the only things she had to hold onto in this hellhole. She had to believe it wasn’t lost forever.

Darcy shoved her hands into her coat pockets as she settled back in her seat, freezing when she felt a small crinkle of paper between her fingers.

Taking care to keep it out of sight, Darcy pulled the slip free and turned it until she could read the single word written there.

It was one of their code words, used frequently in the coded messages they exchanged. It was brief, unintelligible to anyone else, but to Darcy, it meant the world.

It meant _I’m here_.


	10. Who’s Strong and Brave?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may have noticed that I started posting another story. This is the first time I've ever posted two things at the same time. It feels very strange. Just want to reassure you that it won't affect the frequency that I post this story. This story is very much under control. But I actually finished the other one (being shorter and less complicated) over the weekend, so I decided to post it now as well.
> 
> This story is also heading towards done. I'm not sure what I'll do with myself once I finish it. 
> 
> Guess I'll have to start something new.

Bucky sat silent amongst the chattering former prisoners.

They’d escaped the Hydra factory the night before, adrenaline carrying them through the night as they cleared out any enemy stragglers who could threaten their escape.

Most had wanted to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the place they’d been imprisoned, and the crowd had marched slowly through the night. Though they’d managed to find a couple of Hydra vehicles that survived the explosive end to the factory, there were more injured than the trucks and tank could carry, so their progress was slow.

After stopping to rest for much of the morning, they’d started moving again around midday, hoping to make it to friendly territory by nightfall.

Technically, they were in territory held by their allies now, but it certainly wasn’t a place to lower their guard.

Bucky had helped set up the minor fortifications they could put together for the camp. He’d taken his shift up in the sniper nest they’d thrown together, eyes scanning ceaselessly for any sign of other humans in the quiet forest around them.

He’d been relieved almost an hour ago so that he could get some sleep before they made the final leg of their journey tomorrow.

But he couldn’t make his eyes close. He couldn’t stop watching, tense for action.

Most of the day he’d been pushing back the thoughts of what had happened. It was better, easier, to focus on what was in front of him. He didn’t want to have to look at what was behind him.

He didn’t want to think about what they might have done to him.

He’d laughed and told jokes rather than dwell on it. When something brought back a moment from his captivity with gut wrenching clarity, he forced himself to smile, to start a conversation with someone nearby, to do something useful until the memory eased, and he felt almost human again. Almost normal.

But exhaustion had taken that option from him.

He couldn’t find the words to engage with the others still awake around him. He couldn’t find the strength to smile or laugh. He could barely force his breath to stay even, his eyes to stay dry.

Instead of scanning the perimeter of the camp, his eyes now tracked one figure as he made his way around the various groups, checking in, making sure everyone was looking out for each other, asking after the injured and the sick, confirming that no one was at risk of dying before they made it back to the camp.

Bucky stared, trying to see the man that he’d been waiting for, all those days in captivity. He tried to spot the best friend who had always had his back in this stranger who spoke with the same voice.

It was hard to align the two.

What he was doing wasn’t an issue; it was such a Steve thing to do to think about others at a time like this. It was everything else that threw him off. The sheer size of the man was still surprising.

Maybe it always would be.

As he watched, Bucky spotted some of Steve’s mannerisms in the movements. At first it was disconcerting, but as he continued to pick up the small motions, he started to see that his Steve really was inside that giant.

Everyone else’s reactions turned out to be the hardest thing to wrap his head around.

The way every face turned to look when Captain America moved past them. The way people turned to him for answers. The way they listened when he spoke and accepted his leadership without question.

And the way Steve filled that leadership role so effortlessly.

When he thought about it, Bucky had always known that Steve had the individual characteristics that would make a good leader – decisiveness, compassion, faith in people but no patience for bullshit – but no one had ever given him the slightest chance to show it before. Bucky felt like there should have been a learning curve there, some sign that Steve hadn’t led hundreds of men through dangerous lands before.

He could see why people reacted the way they did when he let a part of his brain forget that it was Steve Rogers over there. Then, like the others, he could see the hero, their saviour, the famous Captain America.

But Bucky didn’t want to see Captain America. He had no idea who that person was. He had no idea what they stood for or whether they could be relied on.

Captain America was a stranger.

Bucky had spent days in isolation at the factory, being jabbed with needles, injected with things that burned through him, interrogated about things he didn’t know and things he couldn’t tell.

He’d followed the training, voicing only name, rank, serial number.

But his head was full of other words.

He’d told himself, in the moment, that it was stupid to think there was truth in it. The future was complicated and changeable and there was no reason to think that what she’d said would happen, that it even _could_ happen.

But her words had played on repeat through his head anyway.

_Steve will save you_.

It wasn’t logical.

Steve was safe back home, unacceptable to the Army.

Steve was tiny and could be knocked over by a mild breeze.

Steve had no reason to be anywhere near here, and no way of doing anything even if he was. Hell, Bucky had tried to _make sure_ Steve wouldn’t be anywhere near here. He didn’t like the idea of fate, of things being out of his control and beyond choice. Even knowing that she came from the future, he didn’t like thinking that the things Billie talked about couldn’t be changed.

He didn’t underestimate her knowledge, and he didn’t doubt her goal was worthy, but he paid attention to the things she didn’t say.

She never said that Steve would make it home. She’d refused to say it, had refused to answer his very simple questions. She’d let slip other things, but no matter how he’d pressed, she’d never even hinted that Steve would survive the war.

It would have been so easy for her to say it. Even if she’d added the disclaimer that the future could have changed, it still would have gotten her exactly what she wanted that day. Bucky would have let Steve enlist straight away.

The only reason she had not to answer that question was that she knew the answer wouldn’t help.

Steve wouldn’t make it home.

But Bucky would, she’d practically promised it. All those months she’d stayed in Brooklyn, she’d never feared for Bucky’s life, and she’d sworn that no matter how bad things got for Bucky, Steve would save him.

It was like she didn’t know that losing Steve _was_ the worst possible thing that could happen to Bucky. He’d thought that if his future held torture, death, dismemberment, he could take it as long as Steve was alive and well.

So, he’d tried to stop him enlisting. He’d done his best to talk him out of it. He’d felt relief every time Steve was turned down.

Then he found himself captured, tied down, experimented on and it was worse than anything he’d imagined.

He’d tried to hold onto what he’d decided, that any pain would be worth Steve being safe. He’d forced himself to repeat those words to himself, tried to remember why it mattered.

He’d tried to convince himself that Steve wasn’t coming for him and that was a good thing.

But it didn’t work.

Despite all of that, Bucky still believed.

_Steve will save you._

Because Steve Rogers had never let him down. Because Steve could be knocked down by anyone, but he couldn’t be _kept_ down by anything. Because Steve would never give up until he’d proven her prophecy right.

Through the burning injections, the invasive examinations, the painful experiments, Billie’s words kept him going.

He hadn’t even been surprised to see Steve when he’d appeared.

Well, until he’d stood up and discovered just how much taller Steve was. That had definitely been surprising.

But it hadn’t been the fancy science that had saved Bucky. It hadn’t been the exemplary soldier, or the hero of the masses, or the leader that was wandering around the camp right now. And it wasn’t _that_ man that Bucky needed by his side now.

Bucky Barnes didn’t care about Captain America. He only wanted to see Steve Rogers.

He could, now. After watching for a while, Bucky could see Steve in every movement. That was the way Steve shoved his hair out of his face. There was his slightly awkward laugh when he was choosing to laugh even though he didn’t think it was funny. That frown of concern was the one that had been directed at Bucky so many times.

He waited patiently as Steve worked his way slowly through the masses, skipping no one, until he finally settled next to Bucky.

Up close, it was clearer than ever.

This crowd of soldiers might be fooled by the powerful presence of Captain America, but Bucky would always be able to read Steve Rogers like a book.

He could see the exhaustion, the uncertainty. He could see that, as much as he’d spent the last day and a half searching for his best friend in the man sitting next to him, Steve had been waiting, perhaps since the day he was transformed, for someone to see the man he used to be in the man he’d become.

“Thought I told you _not_ to do anything stupid.” Bucky wrangled all his energy and shot Steve a weary grin, “You know every part of this counts as stupid, right?”

Steve returned Bucky’s grin with a relieved smile of his own, “What do you call getting captured?”

Bucky shrugged as casually as he could manage, stifling the shot of fear at the thought of the cages, the needles, the constraints. “I had ‘em on the ropes.”

Steve let out a sudden, surprised laugh, but then sobered. “I thought I was too late. When I found the others and you weren’t there…I thought I was too late.”

Bucky looked away, wishing he could stop thinking about the whole thing.

“I knew you were coming.” He admitted quietly after a moment.

“You knew –?” Steve turned to frown at him, inhaled sharply, “Because of what she said?”

Bucky nodded slowly.

They sat in silence for a moment, each caught up in their own thoughts, their own memories.

“I wonder how much she knew.” Steve told him, voice uncertain, “There are so many things that didn’t make sense and suddenly… All those things she knew about us, I knew there was more to the story than what she said. But I never imagined this.”

“You’re famous.” Bucky stared at his friend, trying to add that detail into the new picture he was forming.

Steve shifted uncomfortably, “Kind of.”

“And she knew you’d save me.” Bucky looked out over the ramshackle campsite, the hundreds of others she must have also known he’d save.

“Not that much of a leap,” Steve shrugged, “I would have come for you no matter what size I was.”

Bucky smiled, “I knew that, too.”

“She tell you that?” Steve asked.

“Nah,” Bucky shook his head, “I knew that way before she did. I knew you’d never let me down.”

Steve reached out to grasp his shoulder, the large weight of his hand unfamiliar.

“And I never will.” Steve promised. “It’s all turned out just the way she said it would. I joined the army and you needed rescuing. And now it’s over. We don’t have to live with the weight of that prediction anymore.”

“Yeah. It’s over.” Bucky agreed, but a small ball of dread settled in his stomach.

He remembered every word she’d said. He remembered every word she hadn’t said.

She’d told him that things would get so bad for him that people would still be talking about it in her time. And what had happened… it was bad. He knew he would have nightmares as soon as he figured out how to go to sleep. But in the scale of this war?

It wasn’t anything special.

Maybe it was because of Steve. Maybe this story of Captain America going alone behind enemy lines and saving hundreds of lives was the story that would be told for generations. Maybe he was just the human face on the four hundred and that’s why they were still talking about it.

But she’d said it would be worse than he could imagine.

And she’d never said that Steve would make it home.

Bucky swallowed back his fear. Fear wouldn’t help. He needed to be clearheaded, on guard. He would keep an eye out for Steve, no matter what came next.

Because he had a dark feeling that it wasn’t over at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a hard one. I left it only half written for a _really_ long time while I moved on with the story. Took me ages to figure out what I needed to say here.


	11. Almost Like They Expected Us

Months passed in planning and fighting.

Each Hydra base they targeted was different and needed a new plan of attack. They would gather intel, layouts of the bases, how to get there, number of guards, whether there were prisoners that needed to be released before they destroyed the place. The easiest one took weeks to plan; others took months.

They spent months behind enemy lines, minimal contact with command, as they worked their way closer to heavily fortified bases.

They spent weeks back in London, drawing up maps and possible tactics, waiting for information that they needed to move forwards.

And they were winning. Slowly, and not without cost, they were taking out Hydra deep in their own territory where they felt safest.

There were a few problems they hadn’t been able to work around, though. The main one was that they still didn’t know the location of the last Hydra base where all the others sent the weapons they built. It had become clear that that base was the key to Hydra’s whole operation. Though they’d wiped out several of the other bases, others kept popping up in new locations.

Or sometimes in the same places that they’d already taken down.

“How do they keep rebuilding that one so quickly?” Steve asked in frustration, glaring at the map, “This is going to be the third time we’ve taken it down.”

Peggy sighed in agreement, “You can see why they’d focus on that one. With the iron refinery and the nickel mine relatively nearby it’s clearly their most productive site.”

“But it’s only been six weeks since we tore the place down,” Steve shook his head, “Even if they were expecting the attack, how could they be up and running again already?”

“There’s a secondary base,” Colonel Phillips informed him gruffly, “By all accounts the place can’t be very big, but they’re using it as a back-up, with the supplies and the man-power to rebuild as soon as we clear the area. And they’re too far into enemy territory for us to hold the ground for long enough to stop them.”

“So, we need to take out the secondary base,” Steve nodded, “Where is it? How’s it set up?”

“Well, if we knew that we’d have sent you there the first time.” Phillips replied. “Our information is very limited. We know there’s a base. We know it’s somewhere in the mountains. We know the road there goes through a tunnel. We don’t know where the tunnel comes out. We haven’t been able to get any aerial surveillance of the area with the anti-aircraft weapons and the general difficulty of the terrain. Locals we’ve managed to talk to say there’s a mountain pass that goes to the town we suspect they’re using for the base, but _coincidentally_ all the people who knew the pass died around the time Hydra moved in. It’s almost like they knew we’d be coming for them.”

Peggy moved around the table to join Steve by the map, pointing out a generous area, “We believe it’s somewhere in this area, but we haven’t yet been able to find a way in. We’ve been trying to get decent information for a while, but everything we have learned sounds like the place is impenetrable. Attempts to cross the mountains have entirely failed; not one person returned from any of the three missions we sent, and we don’t even know what went wrong. With the only way in or out being a tunnel through the mountains, they really have total control over who gets in or out and they could easily defend against a superior force if we tried to strongarm our way in.”

“Damn,” Steve frowned, considering the options, “There’s not much point attacking the main base if they can just rebuild it that quickly, so we need to do something. If we can hold the main base long enough that they send reinforcements from the secondary base, maybe that would weaken their defences enough?”

“The tunnel’s tight, long and winding.” Phillips said, “Even if we got them down to a skeleton crew inside, it would still cost a huge number of soldiers to get through there.”

“Could we destroy the tunnel itself?” Steve asked, “Prevent them from getting out instead?”

“Better,” Phillips admitted, “But they’re prepared for that too. They’ve cleared a huge area around the entrance so it would be hard to get close enough to lay explosives. Plus, our intel says they’ve got some kind of drilling machine powered by that same blue energy all lined up on the other side ready to dig their way out again if they need to. No guarantee it would buy us any more than a couple extra weeks.”

“Still,” Steve sighed, “That’s probably our best option. With a couple of extra weeks we could set up some more obstacles, slow them down longer. We have to do something.”

“Every option I can think of is going to take a whole lot of lives,” Phillips told him grimly. “If that’s what it takes, then we’ll do it, but it’ll hurt us a hell of a lot.”

“There may be another way,” Peggy was staring at the map, deep in thought, then she looked up and met their eyes decisively, “I’ll have to look into it further, though. Give me a week.”

Without waiting for a response, she spun and marched from the room.

“Well, that was descriptive,” Phillips huffed, “We’d best hope to hell whatever she’s got in her brain works out.”

Steve glanced back at the map and then turned to the door Peggy had just left.

Seemed they’d just have to wait and see.

\--

Steve went looking for Peggy later that day, but apparently whatever possible lead she was following had taken her off-base, and no one seemed to know where she’d gone.

She didn’t return for days.

With no word from her on the third day, Colonel Phillips gave the order to start planning an assault based on the information that they had already. He agreed to wait the week Peggy had asked for, but if she couldn’t offer an alternative, then they’d need to move on the base soon.

It was not looking promising.

They were simply too disadvantaged at the secondary base. Even if Steve took point, it would still cost a lot of lives to take down that back up base. He spent hours in discussion with Howard, trying to think of other ways they could get in besides the one tunnel that was so tightly controlled. More hours were spent with the Commandos, staring at maps and talking through various plans of attack, nailing down every possible advantage they could give themselves. When the meetings were done and he’d sent the men out to let off some steam, he stayed, staring at the maps, talking through options with Bucky.

With just one day until her deadline, Peggy appeared in the doorway to the meeting room and gestured for Steve to follow her.

She ignored his questions as she led him through the hallways and out of the base. Steve’s concern only grew as she continued to lead him past their usual watering hole and into a small park.

Finally, she settled on a bench in the middle of the park, where no one would be able to approach without being seen.

“Peggy, what’s going on?” Steve asked worriedly as he sat next to her.

“Steve,” Peggy kept her voice low, eyes darting around constantly for possibly eavesdroppers, “I may have a way for you to get into the mountain base, but it will require a fair number of conditions that you aren’t going to like. Including the need for absolute secrecy.”

Steve took a breath, feeling relieved, “Of course. Anything that can get us into that base would be worth that. My men know how to keep their mouths shut.”

“No, Steve,” Peggy caught his eye with an intense gaze, “This secret you would need to keep from everyone. Even your own men.”

“Oh,” Steve sat back, frowning. He didn’t like the idea of keeping things from his men, especially Bucky who he talked to about pretty much everything. No, he shook himself out of those thoughts, this was bigger than him. “It’s still worth it to take down that Hydra base for good.”

“Are you certain?” Peggy asked seriously, “Because I can’t give you any further details until you give me your word that you will speak of this to _no one_.”

Steve nodded slowly, picking up from her nerves just how important this was, “I promise.”

Peggy closed her eyes with a sigh; he couldn’t tell if it was relief or resignation.

“I have an agent undercover in the secondary base,” She told him quickly, “They can obtain passes to get you and three of your men into the base. Do you think you can take down an entire base with only three people?”

“I – yeah.” Steve answered certainly, “If we have enough information about the layout, where to hit, we can definitely manage it. Is that why this option wasn’t on the table before? Because you didn’t think four people would be enough?”

Peggy shook her head, “There are several other conditions involved, some of which you certainly won’t like. And if you can’t agree to every one of them, then this option still isn’t on the table. My agent’s cover is of the utmost importance. It cannot be risked for anything, even this.”

Steve paused warily, concerned by Peggy’s concern. “Okay. What are the other conditions?”

“First, no one can know about my agent.” Peggy stated immediately, “Not your men, not Colonel Phillips, not whatever pilot drops you off in the vicinity. The men you choose to accompany you will only be given the details they require and only when they absolutely require them, and they, too, must swear to never speak of it again; not with their nearest and dearest, not even with each other.

“Second, in order to use the passes, you will need to pose as smugglers,” Peggy continued, “You will need to deliver dangerous materials into the hands of Hydra and, most importantly, you will need to let them keep those materials and not attempt to prevent them from using them.”

“What?” Steve frowned, “Why would we –”

“Third,” Peggy cut him off, “You’ll need to lay low for three days after entering the base, and leave a trail to make it seem you found the way over the mountain pass so that your attack is not in anyway linked to the access passes that my agent will provide.

“And finally, you will need to follow my agent’s instructions to the letter and without question, with only one exception. If at any point you feel that continuing your mission may put their mission at risk, you are to abort your own mission immediately. My agent is likely to put your needs above their own, but their mission is, unequivocally, more important than yours. Do you understand?”

Steve took a moment to consider the question, and the conditions Peggy had listed. It was clear from Peggy’s manner how important this was, and certainly some of the requirements she’d raised were not things to be taken lightly. Handing dangerous materials over to Hydra? Putting the lives of his men in the hands of a stranger he knew nothing about?

If it had just been his own life on the line, he wouldn’t have hesitated. But his actions, his choices affected so many more these days. The fact that people lived or died depending on his orders still terrified him. A part of him wished for the times when he could run headlong into danger without caring about the risk. He used to jump into any fight that crossed his path without hesitation. He’d handed himself over for scientific experimentation with barely a pause. He’d gone alone into enemy territory knowing he wasn’t likely to come back alive, let alone bring back 400 men, because there had been so little to lose if he got it wrong. Just his life.

But he wasn’t alone now. He had friends, a team, people counting on him. And while it was a terrifying weight to know that if he got a decision wrong then people would die; it was incredible and humbling to know that people lived because he had gotten them right.

If he got into a fight now, he wasn’t going in alone. Which meant he had to be as sure as he could be that he could get everyone out of the fight that he led into it.

Every one of his men trusted him to make the right call. They weren’t the kind to sit back and wait for the higher-ups to lay down the law, they were vocal, opinionated, but they would follow his lead without hesitation.

He knew some of them would hate the conditions that Peggy required, but they would sign up for this mission anyway if he asked them to. And if things went wrong, if he led them astray, whatever happened would be on him.

Their lives were in his hands.

But so were the lives of strangers.

Prisoners forced to work in the Hydra factories.

Refugees fleeing for their lives.

Civilians held captive by their own governments, by the people who were meant to protect them.

Thousands of strangers whose lives would be cut short under the reign of Hydra who could be saved if they could stop whatever Hydra was working on.

He’d made his own choice months ago, years ago really. His life wasn’t worth more than anyone else’s. And he had to trust that the men who followed him so faithfully had made their own choices as well.

Still, he was glad he didn’t have to make these decisions all on his own. He trusted the advice of his men, and he trusted the oversight of his superiors.

And he trusted the judgement of the woman beside him.

“Do you trust this person?” He asked, watching he carefully for any hesitation.

There was none as she answered promptly, “Absolutely.”

“And do you think taking down this base once and for all would be worth the added risk of giving Hydra whatever dangerous materials you’re talking about?”

She did pause at that question, taking a short breath. “Yes. This factory is the most productive one we’ve managed to get any information about, and we still have so little understanding of what they’re doing with it. We can draw very clear conclusions about what Hydra could make with the materials we would give them, but we can barely comprehend what they could do with more months of a fully functional factory at this location.”

Steve watched her for a moment, and then nodded.

“Okay,” He agreed, “Then let’s bring down that base.”


	12. Steve Rogers Verified

It was somewhat harder to convince the others.

Colonel Phillips, in particular, was not impressed with being kept out of the loop on the plan. He refused to sign off on the mission for three days while Steve and Peggy tried to convince him that it was a good plan without actually telling him the plan. Eventually, he grudgingly accepted that the plan required utter secrecy to work at all and authorised the additional units to join the main attack group.

The assault would come from two sides. Steve would lead the smaller group who would split from the main force over a week earlier. They would pick up a truck that Peggy was arranging and follow the directions to a location near both bases, but outside of the security measures. They would receive the next instructions when they got there.

The rest of the Commandos, along with two specialist units Phillips assigned, would wait the set number of days for Steve’s team to get in position and would prepare their strike on the secondary base so that they could time their attack on the main factory to happen at the same time. They’d taken it down twice before, and their intel indicated it had been set up much the same the third time. With the additional soldiers and no support coming from the secondary base, it would be fairly straight forward.

Assuming Steve’s team could pull off their part, it would spell the end for that factory for good.

Apart from the large holes in the middle where even Steve didn’t know what to expect, it was a good plan. But those holes were concerning for everyone.

Steve spent hours weighing up who to take with him on the mission. While he trusted all of his men completely, he knew them well enough to know that some were better suited to the stealth, secretive work than the others.

Dernier was an obvious choice. With such a small team, explosives would give them an edge they needed.

Given where they were going, it would help to have Gabe’s better understanding of German to make sure they could get in and out.

Which only left one spot left for the secondary base.

“You know you’ll always be my first choice watching my back, Buck,” Steve sighed, “But I need you to lead the attack on the main base.”

“Dum Dum could lead the second team,” Bucky argued, “You’ve heard how much he hates this plan; do you really trust that he’ll be able to keep his mouth shut about whatever it is you’re going to have to keep to yourselves after?”

“Sadly, yes,” Steve shook his head, “I have no doubt that Dum Dum will accept the conditions required when the time comes for it, though I know he’ll also complain every minute before that. But how much he hates this plan is exactly why I can’t leave him in charge of the main attack. He’s so sure something is going to go wrong that I’m not sure he wouldn’t attack before the agreed time or divert soldiers to somehow try and save us without any reason to think we need saving.”

He gave Bucky an apologetic look, “Much as I want you at my side, there’s no one I trust more to lead the charge on the factory.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Fine. But don’t think I’m not annoyed about it. And when you find out why there’s this rule that you can’t tell your own team about what goes down in there, be sure to tell whoever’s involved that I think it stinks.”

And with little further fanfare, the plans were set and it was time to move out.

Steve had been right about Dum Dum complaining every step of the way.

While the rest of the team only knew that there was a plan to take down the secondary base, once they were on their way Steve gave Dernier, Jones and Dum Dum a few extra details. But apparently the added knowledge that there was an undercover agent who could get them passes in wasn’t particularly comforting for Dum Dum.

He’d muttered under his breath when they collected the truck. Swore at the stupidity of everyone involved as they drove to the meeting point. Dropped pointed remarks as they scoped out the house where they were meant to meet the agent.

“I still don’t like this plan, Cap.” Dum Dum muttered, pulling the curtains out slightly to peer out into the dark night, “There’s so many things that could go wrong here. We know nothing about this agent. Anybody could walk through the door claiming to be him.”

“I’m aware.” Steve muttered, annoyed to be having the conversation again, “But Agent Carter made it clear that there would be no doubt when the right person arrives, and since she’s the only one who knows about this person, we have to trust her on this.”

“I get that you trust Carter a whole lot, but we don’t know her that well.” Dum Dum pointed out, “We’ve just got your word vouching for her word vouching for this person. And I trust your word completely, but what if she’s off base on this? We’re talking about a double agent. They live their whole lives lying. They have to convince both sides that they agree with them completely, how do we know we’re not the side being lied to? What if this is just a trap for Captain America to wander right into with minimal back up?”

Steve hesitated, thinking about this for a moment before responding slowly, “No. The way Peg – Agent Carter – talked about this guy, she was genuinely worried about him. She trusts this person. And I trust her judgement. But if we have any doubts, then we can abort our mission. We’ll keep the promise never to talk about the agent again, but if there’s any sign of the mission going south, our orders are to abandon our mission to keep their cover. That gives us plenty of space to walk away if it doesn’t feel right.”

“Great, let’s start packing.” Dum Dum actually moved towards the bags, stacked beside Dernier, “Because this already doesn’t feel right.”

“Dum Dum,” Steve sighed, “We’re not bailing just because you’re nervous.”

“Of course I’m nervous!” Dum Dum almost shouted but remembered to keep his voice low just in time. He glanced at the others, looking for support, “You realise what’s at stake here? If this goes wrong, you know what they’ll do to us?”

“They’ll kill you.” A voice came from the door.

In an instant, the four Howling commandos arrayed, weapons drawn, facing the intruder.

The woman didn’t even blink at the sight of so many weapons pointing at her. She merely closed the door silently behind her as she continued.

“If they catch you, they’ll kill you.” She spoke with certainty, voice quiet but hard as steel, “Quick and easy. If this goes badly, you guys will get the swift path to oblivion. I’m the one they’ll torture to death, and they’ll make sure that death doesn’t come any time soon. But sure, go ahead and explain why this is too much of a risk for you.”

Silence followed her words, and Dum Dum glanced at the others around him, expecting his Captain to step in and take charge. When Steve made no sound or motion, Dum Dum cleared his throat.

“So, you’re Cartwright’s agent?” He asked.

The woman smirked at his question, “Nicely done. It’s Carter. Peggy Carter. And yeah, I’m Carter’s big secret.”

Dum Dum glanced at the others again from the corner of his eye, unwilling to take his gaze from the stranger in their midst. With no sign of action from Cap, Dum Dum decided he’d just have to press forwards himself. They needed answers before they put their lives in this woman’s hands, and if no one else was going to ask them, then he would.

“So, if this is such a risk for you, then why would you agree to the plan at all?” He kept his eyes on her suspiciously.

“It’s a good plan.” She shrugged, “And if you follow the instructions then it won’t be linked back to me, and delivery of those supplies will get me in where I need to be. It’s a win-win for everyone.”

“Only if we can really trust each other.” Dum Dum pointed out, “You said you’re Carter’s big secret, apparently only a couple of people knew about you before us, so you’re clearly good at keeping secrets. The first rule of which is don’t tell anyone. What makes you think _you_ can trust _us_?”

“You’ve been vouched for.” The reply was firm, confident, with no room for doubt.

“By Carter?” Dum Dum asked, pouring doubt into his voice, “What makes you think she knows us that well?”

“It wasn’t Agent Carter who chose you for this mission, and it wasn’t her word that I asked for.” The woman paused, looking past Dum Dum, “It was your captain who promised that you could be trusted with this.”

Gabe snorted from beside Dum Dum, “What you think just because he wears the American flag, Captain America must be a good character reference?”

Her gaze didn’t waver as the woman answered softly, “Not Captain America. Steve Rogers.”

The statement dropped among them like a stone. Slowly, the three Howlies turned to look at their leader, who was staring at the woman in the doorway with a face full of turmoil.

“What are you doing here?” Steve spoke finally, voice choked with emotion.

“Exactly what it looks like.” She responded. Her voice was still quiet and calm, but emotions were slipping into her eyes now.

Steve made a vague gesture towards himself that didn’t seem to convey much as he asked, “Did you know…?”

Clearly, the woman understood the question, because she responded immediately.

“Yeah.” She nodded.

Dum Dum looked back and forth between the two for a moment, the tension in the air making him uncomfortable.

“So…” He cleared his throat, “I take it this is what Carter meant when she said you’d know her agent. Because you actually _know_ her agent.”

Steve nodded slowly, then blinked back the emotions in his eyes. He shifted slightly, and in the motion somehow Captain America stepped in where Steve Rogers had been.

“Yeah. I know her.” Steve answered firmly, “And I trust her. Completely. Mission parameters stand. Top priority is retaining her cover.”

After a second’s consideration, and a glance to his compatriots, Dum Dum lowered his weapon.

“Right, well then, I’m Sergeant Dugan.” He held out his hand to the woman, all previous doubts gone, “You can call me Dum Dum. Guess we’ll be working together for now miss…?”

She reached out to shake his hand as she replied, “Call me Reese.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: parts of this chapter were among the first things I wrote way back when the story was still just an idea. There have been a lot of changes since then, but overall it's pretty similar to what was in my head from the very beginning.


	13. For Tomorrow and For Yesterday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I think... I might have _finished_ writing this story. Like, _really_ finished. I'm not 100% sure... mostly because I've been writing this so long that I can't really believe it could be finished.

“The smugglers that you’re impersonating are known to be paranoid.” Darcy explained once introductions were out of the way and they’d settled around the small table downstairs. “They’re especially paranoid about dealing with Hydra since Hydra has a tendency to kill people instead of paying them. We’re relying on that paranoia to get you through this.”

“I take it there’s more to this plan than you just handing over four passes to us?” Dum Dum asked, impatient.

Darcy gave him an equally impatient look, “You’re going to have to take down an established base with only three people. I’d think it would be worth taking the time to get as much information about the set up as possible from the person who has actually lived there.”

“Dum Dum,” Steve admonished gently, then turned back to face her. His mask of professionalism was firmly in place now. “Agent Carter said that you would have more details about the plan. We also promised to follow your lead as long as it doesn’t put your mission at risk. We’re listening.”

“Right,” Darcy nodded, swallowing back her own emotions. If he could play this professional, so could she. So, what if these were the first friendly faces she’d seen in too long? This was the job, and it was far from the hardest part of the job.

She pulled a clump of papers from her pocket and spread them over the table, revealing a map she’d drawn herself.

“Sorry about the low-quality cartography.” She said as aligned the pages in front of them, “Not really my skill set.”

“And what is your skill set?” Gabe asked curiously.

“Guys, come on, this isn’t the time for an interrogation.” Steve glared at his men, but they didn’t seem particularly affected by it.

“Seems like the perfect time for an interrogation,” Dum Dum disagreed, “Like she said, we need to get as much info as we can from her before the mission really starts. This could be our only chance to ask the important questions. So, tell us, what was Cap really like when you knew him?”

Darcy looked up and caught the teasing smirk on Dum Dum’s face. Dernier broke out laughing when Steve blushed, while Gabe grinned and made a comment in French that didn’t take any guesses to figure out.

“Shorter,” Darcy smiled. It was nice to see this camaraderie in action, to witness how Steve had found his place in the world. “But I doubt anything else has changed much.”

“Can we get back on subject?” Steve asked, shifting uncomfortably under his teammates’ mocking grins, “We’re heading out first thing in the morning, so we need to know the whole plan.”

Darcy leaned forward to point out the part of her map marked _Tunnel._

“The passes I’ve got will get you through the tunnel into the valley here. Security in is very tight, and you won’t be able to smuggle any weapons in at all. They’ll do a thorough check of your delivery, too. I know you probably take issue with handing over materials that dangerous to Hydra, but it is literally your only way in so don’t even think about messing with it.

“Fortunately,” she continued, “The outgoing security is pretty minimal. They’re so careful about what comes in that they don’t worry about what goes out. That’s the weak spot. There’s a blind spot between the guard posts here. I’ve put together some dummies, along with some other supplies, that you’ll have to load into the truck to take your spots, but as long as there are four people and an empty truck at a glance, the guards aren’t likely to look very closely on the way out.”

“And if they do?” Steve asked.

Darcy shrugged, “I never said this wasn’t without risk. The odds are solid, but it’s not something we really have control over. Whoever drives the truck out again may have to bluff their way out.”

Gabe sighed, “Guess that’s on me, then, since I’ve got the best German.”

“Good,” Darcy nodded, and pointed at another spot on the map, “So the rest of you will need to get off the truck here. You can only stop for a couple of minutes, so you’ll need to move fast. I made three very rudimentary mannequins which are hidden behind the biggest tree here, you’ll have to give up the coats and hats you’re wearing to get them out through the gate.”

“These guards are seriously going to fall for something like that?” Dum Dum asked sceptically.

“Remarkably, yes,” Darcy nodded, “I’ve actually tested it myself. They wouldn’t on the way in, but they really only glance at people on their way out. The list of things they worry might be stolen is pretty short. Since the main purpose of this base is to be prepared to rebuild the other base at a moment’s notice, most of the stuff they’re protecting tends towards the big and heavy. Building materials and back up machinery. They don’t think there’s anything pocket sized worth stealing, so they don’t bother checking pockets. Or faces for that matter.”

“That’s a pretty significant security hole,” Steve frowned, “How can they not have noticed?”

“Well, I thought about raising it myself, but I decided it might be useful to have that kind of hole.” Darcy pointed out, “It’s possible others have thought the same way. The people who make it to this level in Hydra tend to have a certain amount of self-interest over and above loyalty to a cause. Besides, the base is actually very small, and most of the space is taken up with storage. They have limited manpower and they’ve prioritised keeping people out rather than keeping people in.”

“So the getting in part then,” Steve shifted closer to the map, “What do we need to know for that? We show these passes and tell them what, exactly?”

“The guards at the tunnel entrance have specific instructions when they see these passes. They’ll know immediately who you are, or rather who you’re pretending to be, and what you’re doing there. They’ll do a thorough check of the truck, the goods, and each of you. Then they’ll give you directions to follow once you’re through the tunnel. You’ll meet with my boss, Herr Sauer, who will check the goods once more, and will pay you. Make sure you check the payment and count it. The smugglers you’re impersonating wouldn’t leave without confirming the payment.”

“You said Hydra has a tendency to kill people once they’ve served their purpose, what’s to stop them killing us then?” Dum Dum asked.

“That’s where the paranoia of these smugglers comes in.” Darcy nodded, “They’ve dealt with Hydra a few times before, and, when they do, they always insist on keeping a hostage until final payment is received. They’re well known on both sides as reliable smugglers, and the hostages are always returned unharmed. Or, they are as long as the smugglers get paid in full and make it back from delivery unharmed.”

“Où allons-nous trouver un otage?” Dernier cut in.

Darcy gestured to herself, “Already here. Given the limited numbers, I’ll have to hold myself hostage while you’re gone, but I’m sure I can manage. Once Gabe returns with the empty truck and the payment, I’ll head back. Transaction completed.”

“And the rest of us?” Steve asked.

“You’ll have to hide for the three days that you promised. Here,” Darcy pointed at the other end of the map, “Is where the mountain pass comes out. I’ve no idea where it starts, but you’ll need to make you’re way there covering your trail, camp out for a couple of days, and then leave a clear trail back down from there when you attack. That way, your attack won’t be linked to those passes, which would lead straight back to me. Which would be bad.”

They spent hours running through the plan over and over again, considering all the possible ways that things could go and coming up with contingency plans for each.

It was well after midnight when Dum Dum pushed to his feet with an over-dramatic sigh and a weak excuse. He gave a significant glare at Jones and Dernier and jerked his head at them until they, too, decided they should go upstairs now.

Darcy and Steve remained at the table, silent as the others made their exits.

“They’re subtle,” Darcy shot him a grin.

“I wasn’t exactly looking for a stealth team,” Steve shook his head, his gaze turning serious as he met her eyes, “And they’re smart enough to know I need this.”

Darcy broke his gaze, the intensity hard to bear.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, voice full of genuine worry and understanding and… And love. Still.

Darcy sniffed slightly, knowing that she wasn’t likely to get through this conversation without tears.

“I’m okay.” She answered quietly, steadily. “It’s not ideal, obviously, but it’s necessary so I’ll deal with it.”

“Billie,” Steve murmured, catching her eye with a sympathetic look, “You may have gotten better at lying, but I know you better than that. I know you can’t be okay living like this.”

Darcy shook her head, the expected lump rising in her throat. “Like I said, I have to be.”

Steve sighed and reached out to place his hand gently over hers. “Come on, princess, how long has it been since you could talk to anyone about all of this? You know you can still tell me anything.”

“I can’t talk about this,” Darcy closed her eyes, struggling to keep her voice from trembling, “I can’t… If I talk about it then it makes it all real.”

“This doesn’t already feel way too real?” Steve asked gently. She looked up to find tears in his eyes. “Because, even though I was pretty sure I’d never see you again, somehow it just makes sense.”

He waited for a moment, watching her fight to hold everything back.

He sighed, “Princess…”

Darcy suddenly turned her hand over to grip his like a lifeline. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, couldn’t bring herself to see what her words would do to him.

But she needed to say it. More than she’d ever needed to say anything, she needed to put these words out into the world.

“I don’t think I’m going to make it out of this,” Her voice was a broken whisper, “I don’t think I’m going to make it home. I’m doing the best I can, but I don’t think it’s going to be enough. Not enough to save the world, or you, or Jane. Jane trusted me to do this. And yeah, it’s bigger than either of us imagined, but she’s counting on me. And I’m failing.”

“You’re not failing.” Steve held her hand tightly, holding back his own emotions to focus on hers. “You’re not. You’re the strongest, bravest person I’ve ever met. Hey, look at me.”

He waited until her watery eyes lifted to meet his.

“I’m solid proof that you’re not failing.” He reminded her, “Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out? How many times did you save my life?”

Darcy shook her head and shrugged wordlessly.

“You don’t even know, do you?” He asked, wonder in his tone, “You couldn’t even keep count, you saved my life so many times. You drove that guy out of an entire city. And you may not have won yet, but I know you’ve kept him from winning, too. You’ve got the harder job. He only needed to beat you once; you’ve needed to beat him every single day. You’ve kept him at bay for _years_ , and you’ll keep doing it for as long as it takes.”

Darcy stared at him in shock, thrown by how much he understood about what she was doing. She knew she’d let a lot of things slip, but because he’d never asked questions, never frowned at her in confusion like so many others around her, she’d let herself believe that he hadn’t caught her slip ups.

It hadn’t occurred to her that he didn’t question her because he had that much faith that she could pull it off. She didn’t know how anyone could have that much faith in her. She certainly didn’t.

“But like you said,” She choked out, “He only has to win once.”

“Which is why you’ll keep fighting.” Steve answered with confidence, “I know you. I know you’ll never give up. Hell, you know that, too. All your fears about failing, and not once have you mentioned the option of not trying. You’re smarter than him. You’ve proven that. You’re better at making your way in this time. You’ve got better people backing you up. You’ve got history on your side. Do you think the people of this world will just let someone like him force them into a future they don’t want?

“You are not alone, princess. I know it must feel like it way out here, pretending to be someone you’re not, but we’re all here if you need help; all you have to do is ask. But I know won’t, because you _can_ do this yourself.”

Darcy shook her head, still unable to comprehend, “How can you have so much faith in me?”

“You’ve never let me down.” Steve answered easily. “You’ve never let any of us down.”

Darcy met his gaze, let his unwavering strength settle over her. She let her mind drift back to simpler days with him. Not that they’d ever felt simple, but they’d felt right. Full of love, and trust, and understanding. People looking after each other no matter what life threw at them.

She called up those memories frequently in this place, to remind herself what she was fighting for, but it had gotten harder over the years. Right now, with Steve’s hand gripped in hers, his so familiar eyes watching her, she felt like she could step right back into those moments. Right back into the time when she’d had a family around her.

She may have lost count of the times she’d saved him, but she’d also lost count of the ways he’d saved her.

She brushed the tears from her face and gave him a soft smile.

“When did you figure it out?” She asked.

He shrugged, “I picked up the pieces over time. And when Captain America became a celebrity I knew it couldn’t be a coincidence. Honestly, even though it was the only thing that made sense, I still didn’t really believe it. Even with the serum, I didn’t believe one kid from Brooklyn could make much difference. Once they gave me a team and put me in charge of taking down Hydra’s bases, well, then it became pretty stupid to deny it.”

“Do you think it would have changed anything if I’d told you?” Darcy asked curiously.

Steve frowned in thought for a moment, “Maybe. It’s not like I figured any of it out in advance, just in hindsight realised how much sense it made. It’s hard to guess how I would have reacted if I’d thought I knew what was coming.”

“Did it… Does it bother you?” Darcy asked, “That I know things about you that you haven’t figured out yet?”

“No,” Steve answered to quickly, too defensively. She gave him a look and he sighed before continuing, “Mostly, no. There’s just little things, things that shouldn’t matter in the big picture.”

“Like what?” Darcy asked.

“This isn’t important.” Steve shook his head, “I know why you need to do this, it’s more important than the little things that bother me. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“But I do,” Darcy admitted, heart picking up at the thought of all the ways she had and would hurt Steve, “I can’t help it. I need to know the damage that I’m doing. I need to. Please.”

Steve met her beseeching gaze in turmoil. Clenching his jaw, he looked away, unable to look at her.

“I guess…” He pulled his hand away from hers, needing space if he was going to admit this, “There was… When I became Captain America, suddenly people looked at me in ways they never had before. Women looked at me. It was – It was flattering at first, but it became clear pretty quickly that they never really saw me, they never looked past the surface. They all just see Captain America.”

He looked up, discomfort in his gaze, “I guess it hurt when I realised that’s what you always saw, too. From the first day, you called me a hero. From the first moment, you knew what I might become. I can’t help but wonder how much of what you felt was for Captain America instead of Steve Rogers.”

“Steve,” Darcy shook her head and a trace of amusement creeping into her voice. She reached out for him this time, closing her fingers over his wrist as she shot him a bemused smile, “You _are_ Captain America. You always have been. Yeah, I saw you as a hero from the moment we met, because you _saved my life_ the moment we met. And you saved me again and again in so many ways every day after that.

“I didn’t fall in love with you because I knew you’d grow some muscles. I fell in love with you because you gave me hope, because you held me steady, because you gave me a home. Of course I saw Captain America in you every day. Because it’s always been there; it’s who you _are_. It has nothing to do with your height or the strength of your punch or any legions that might follow you. It’s your heart, Steve. That’s what makes you a hero, with or without the serum.”

Steve huffed out a laugh, “And you wondered why I didn’t want to date anyone else.”

Darcy grinned, “Yeah, how is Peggy?”

“I – What?” Steve immediately blushed, stammer out incoherently, “We’re not – I mean, we haven’t – It’s not really –”

Darcy burst out laughing, continuing to giggle as Steve’s spluttering wound down. He shot her a mock glare at her amusement, but she could see the smile he was holding back.

“God, Steve,” Darcy snorted, “You still blush like a champion. Did you seriously think history wouldn’t notice you two?”

His expression turned more serious as he spoke more hesitantly, “I don’t want you to think it’s…” He sighed, unable to figure out the words.

“Hey,” Darcy squeezed his hand, “I get it, okay? Peggy is amazing. She’s super badass, ferociously compassionate, and just the right amount of terrifying. Plus, she is _incredibly_ hot. You both deserve whatever happiness you can get. I ship it.”

“I do like her, a lot,” Steve admitted with just a hint of a blush this time, “But it doesn’t make what we had any… less.”

“I know,” Darcy nodded, “And I have no regrets about that. What we had was good. Honestly, those memories give me strength every single day. And I will always love you. But we were never meant for more than this.

“Tomorrow, you’re going to leave, and I have to stay.” She shrugged with a humourless smile, “That’s our lot. I’m glad that you have people to make you happy. There is nothing in me that is sad or jealous about that. So, if any part of your hesitation about moving forward with Peggy was over me? Take my advice: grab any joy you can while it’s there.”

Steve looked at her sadly, “And, what, just forget that you’re here without any joy at all?”

“I have had… so many great times,” Darcy assured him, tears welling again, “I have seen things you can’t even imagine and done things no one would believe. I drank cheap tequila in the middle of the desert, ate pop-tarts with aliens, learned a hundred constellations. I have laughed and danced and saved the freaking world. I have loved and been loved. And, yeah, this particular point in my life doesn’t have a lot of those things, but I will beat this and I will go home to where I can have it again.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper, unable to hold onto her conviction, her hope; unable to hold onto the illusion that there could be any ending for her that could ever count as _good_. “Or I will die trying. Because you’re right, even if there’s no hope left, I’ll still choose to keep trying.”

“There is always hope, princess,” Steve told her firmly, “Even if everything else is lost, as long as you’re still breathing, there’s still hope.”

“Maybe,” She shrugged, unconvinced, “Or maybe it doesn’t matter. I’ll do what needs to be done, no matter the cost, no matter the consequences. And if there’s nothing left of me when it’s over, then that’s just the price I have to pay.”

“Princess,” Steve frowned, reaching out to take her other hand, trying to find the words to give her comfort, strength, hope.

“No, Steve,” Darcy shook her head, disentangling her hands from his, “It is what it is. You can’t save me from this; no one can. Even if I win, I lose.” Lose him, lose Bucky. Peggy and Howard. Lose herself. The things that were coming were unavoidable, the cost of winning too high to bear.

Before Steve could respond, Darcy pushed herself to her feet, “It’s late, and I still need sleep to function so I’d better get to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She turned and left without another word, pretending not to hear when he called her name with concern.

There was no hope left for Darcy, no matter what either of them said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm... yeah... so, Darcy isn't really in the best place mentally and emotionally right now. Can you blame her?


	14. How to Walk Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I should have warned you to bring tissues to the last chapter. To be honest, at this point, you might be better to assume you'll need tissues for pretty much every chapter. There's a whole lot of feels from here on out.
> 
> Fortunately, you may have noticed, I've started posting faster so you won't have to wait so long to get some closure.
> 
> And yes, I promise, there will (eventually) be closure. Eventually.

They rose before dawn, packing up in well-choreographed silence as they prepared for the mission ahead. The little that they’d unloaded for their single night in the house was bundled back up into the truck. Darcy rattled off the directions one last time even though they’d all memorised them already.

Steve trudged out of the house behind his men, feet heavy with dread and fear. The conversation from last night weighed on him, key phrases and haunting expressions drifting repeatedly through his head.

He didn’t want to leave her here. Not like this.

He’d lain awake most of the night, trying to think of something, anything he could do to help. Some other option besides walking away from her this morning.

But he’d drawn a blank.

She’d left him before. Twice, she’d walked away because it was _necessary_. And he’d pretended to understand and pretended there wasn’t a part of him that resented it.

Now, he understood too well.

He had a mission to complete, and it mattered more than one individual’s state of mind. Even if it was an individual he cared for as much as he did her.

And she had a mission, too, one he’d promised to protect above all else, one she wouldn’t give up for anything. She’d made that abundantly clear.

This time, he was the one who had to walk away. Even though he feared it might break her, even though he worried about how lost she seemed, how alone and out of hope.

He had no words of comfort, no helpful advice, no gesture of support to offer.

He stopped a few steps from the truck, tormented by her bleak words.

Vaguely, he heard Gabe call his name in question, but he ignored it.

There was so little he could give her, but as her words played over in his head again, he knew he couldn’t leave without giving her one, last, tiny thing.

He let the bag drop from his shoulder as he turned decisively, striding back to where she stood, watching, in the doorway.

He didn’t pause at the door, or at her questioning gaze. He moved directly into her space, reached out and pulled her into a searing kiss.

It was exactly the same.

Somehow, despite the time, despite the distance, despite their new height difference, it still felt exactly the same.

He didn’t have the words, but he poured it all into the kiss instead; all his love, his fear, his faith. He gave her his understanding and his support, his belief in doing the right thing no matter the cost, and his certainty that she could get through this.

When he pulled back, he moved slowly, meeting her eye to make sure she understood exactly what he meant. He watched her swallow back tears and offer him a watery smile. He returned it with one of his own.

Steeling himself, Steve leaned in to press one more lingering kiss to her forehead then, without a word, he turned away, picking up his pack as he walked back to the truck and climbed in.

The Howlies all watched him with curious and sympathetic looks, but they didn’t ask any questions or make any jokes.

“Let’s go.” Steve ordered quietly, and his men moved quickly to follow the direction.

\--

The mission went off exactly as planned. They delivered the goods to Hydra in exchange for a bag full of cash that Dernier was careful to count out of the bag and then back in again.

At the blind spot on the road back, they hustled out of the vehicle, easily locating the strawmen right where Reese had said they’d be. After quickly dressing them in their coats and hats, Steve, Dernier and Dugan snuck up the hill through the trees, careful to avoid leaving any tacks, until they found a vantage point where they could watch the truck approach the entrance to the tunnel.

The guards at the gate didn’t even glance in the back of the truck, just pulled the barricade aside and let Jones drive straight through.

“Wow,” Dum Dum muttered, “I honestly hadn’t believed they’d be that lazy.”

“Can’t expect to get that lucky for the rest of this,” Steve agreed, shifting to lead them away from the road, “Come on.”

They’d spent a day setting up camp with the stash of supplies Reese had left for them, dividing up the watch between them so that they’d all be well-rested for the attack.

Then they waited.

It was part of the agreement, waiting so their attack wouldn’t be linked to Reese. Plus, the rest of their team were preparing to attack the other base simultaneously. They knew why they needed to wait, and it was even more important now that they’d seen the person they were doing this to protect.

It was still hell, though, sitting around doing nothing in enemy territory.

Finally, before dawn on the third day, they moved into position, charging down into the camp as the sun rose.

It was simple, even with so few of them. All defences at the base were focussed outwards and Reese had mapped out the whole compound, telling them exactly where to target. She’d pointed out the munitions storage which they hit first, giving them the weapons to take down the rest of the base.

She wasn’t there.

Steve wasn’t sure if he was glad or disappointed.

Probably glad. He’d hate if she got hurt in the confusion.

But he’d give anything for one last glimpse of her, too.

With the base in ruins behind them, and the tell-tale line of smoke rising in the distance ahead of them to confirm that the other attack had gone forward as well, they made their way on foot out through the tunnel to the rendezvous point where they would be collected.

“You really going to be okay with this, Cap?” Dum Dum asked quietly as a they settled in to wait, “Not talking about this with anyone again?”

“If it protects her,” Steve replied quickly. That decision was easy; carrying it out would be harder.

The other two exchanged glances, clearly uncertain how to help their leader and friend.

“Well,” Dum Dum offered, “The agreement was that we never mention it once the mission was over. Technically, that’s not until we get picked up. So, if there’s anything you do want to talk about, anything you need to get off your chest, you could do that now.”

Steve sighed, wishing he could take them up on the offer.

“I really can’t.” He shook his head, “It’s complicated, and there are other promises, promises made a _really_ long time ago. I can’t break those either, so I can’t talk about it at all.”

“But you loved her,” Dum Dum spoke quietly, no question at all.

Steve nodded slowly, before agreeing quietly. “But I loved her.”

She’d left him, talking about important things that she needed to do. And he couldn’t deny this was important. How many lives had they saved today? How many months had they knocked off the length of this war by taking down that base once and for all?

He couldn’t argue that she should have stayed. He couldn’t pretend that there was another option.

But she was alone, here in the midst of monsters. With so little hope and strength left, holding on by sheer force of will.

She was stubborn, so maybe that would be enough.

But she was hurting, losing herself, losing faith. There was so much about her and her mission that was still a mystery, even to him. She knew more about what she was facing than anyone on the planet. If she didn’t believe she could beat it, how could he possibly argue that she could.

That might well have been the last time he would ever see her. Best case scenario, he’d hear that she’d finished her job and gone back to whenever she came from. More likely, he’d hear the news, months or years from now, that she’d been caught, killed.

Or maybe she would just disappear, like so many others, messages dwindling until word stopped coming and, suddenly, she was just gone. Maybe he would never know if she survived.

And he loved her, and probably always would.

He dropped his head into his hands.

He was starting to love Peggy, too, and he knew this could only complicate things. She’d fired a gun at him when a woman had kissed him without his agreement. How would she react if she knew he’d kissed Reese by his own choice?

“Well, all the details of this mission fall under that no-talking agreement, so any kissing that may or may not have occurred won’t make it back to sensitive ears.” Dum Dum seemingly read Steve’s mind.

It was true, he knew his men would never break their silence on this, they’d promised already.

But the idea of keeping this from Peggy weighed like a stone in his stomach. It wouldn’t be fair to her, and it wouldn’t be fair to Reese.

Both of them deserved better. Better than him, and better than this war had offered them. He didn’t want to pretend that he didn’t care as much as he did about Reese. There were so few people in this time who did.

And he didn’t want to pretend anymore that he didn’t care as much as he did about Peggy. Reese was right, the future was unpredictable, and embracing the few good things they had was worth any risk.

He’d just have to hope that if he came clean, Peggy might still give him a chance.

Any other option hurt too much to consider.

 


	15. Let’s Be Honest

Steve fidgeted as he waited for the room to clear, darting forward to snag Peggy’s sleeve before she could follow the others out.

“Is there somewhere we can talk?” He asked nervously, voice quiet, “Somewhere private and… secure?”

Peggy shot him a questioning look, but nodded and gestured for him to follow her.

She led him through a few hallways and into a small office that looked like it had once been a closet.

“I was going to call you aside myself,” She admitted as she let him in and pulled a folded paper from under a pile of others on the desk, “I received a message for you. I finished decoding it shortly before you returned.”

Steve took the paper but didn’t move to open it, staring instead at Peggy and trying to work out how to tell her what he needed to say, second guessing whether he was right to tell her at all.

“Was there something else that happened on the mission?” She asked, concerned.

“Not something that matters to…” He gestured vaguely at the world outside the closed door, “Them. But I – I need to tell you something. Something you might… It’s just.” He let out a sigh.

Peggy moved over to lean against the small desk, “Just tell me Steve.”

“I kissed her.”

Silence followed his sudden statement, and he watched as shock crossed Peggy’s face, quickly followed by the cool, disinterested mask of professionalism that she hadn’t directed at him in months.

“Well,” Her voice was sharp, “You’re both adults, you can kiss whomever you choose.”

“Peg,” Steve shifted, expecting her to try to leave, but she remained there, glaring at him, “Please, I – I know we haven’t really talked about it, but we both know there’s… there’s _something_ here, right? I – I like being around you, and I like who I am with you, and I… I like _you_. That matters to me, which is why I need to tell you this. Please, let me explain?”

“I’m listening.” She remained tensed, braced for anything.

“I – It’s difficult to –” He broke off and shook his head. After a moment to line up his thoughts, he started again, “You knew that I knew her. Did you know how I knew her?”

Peggy frowned at him, and shook her head slowly, “No. Though I’ve some guesses.”

“Right,” Steve nodded, voice thick with memories, replaying events in the light of what had happened since, what she must have known would happen. “Yeah, hindsight, it’s pretty obvious how her mission might intersect with me. But I didn’t know I’d end up here when I met her. We were… close. For a while, and through some difficult times. We were friends and… more. I loved her. She was the first person I ever loved that way, and a part of me will probably always love her.”

“So, what?” Peggy asked, less angry now, more resigned, almost defeated, “You saw her and couldn’t control yourself? And now you’re hoping I’ll forgive you for forgetting in a moment of weakness about whatever _something_ you think we might have had?”

“I didn’t forget.” Steve shifted towards her but stopped himself, knowing she wouldn’t welcome his touch now, “I thought about you before I kissed her, I knew how it would make you feel.”

“And you did it anyway.” Peggy’s voice was dark and icy now. She shoved away from the desk suddenly, reaching for the door, “We’re done here.”

“She doesn’t think she’s getting out of there alive.” Steve spoke quickly, and Peggy froze with her hand on the door knob. “She thinks she’s failing, that she’s already failed, and that she’ll never get home.”

Peggy turned back slowly to face him, eyes still guarded, but listening.

“I don’t know what she was like when you first met her, but when I met her… she was so different from the person I saw on this mission.” Steve thought back to the girl who had dragged him out to buy sanitary pads, who had spent so many evenings talking with him and Bucky and his Ma. Who had held his hand through her funeral, who had jumped in front of danger for him so many times.

“That place is breaking her.” He spoke with certainty, “And I know she’ll keep going anyway. She’ll do whatever she has to, and will give up whatever she has to, to finish the mission. But she doesn’t believe that she can succeed. And this job is draining everything she has left.”

He sighed and dropped his head wearily, trying to find the words to get her to understand. “If I could give her anything to help her hold on, anything to give her a bit more strength, any tiny positive thing in the world of horrors that she’s surrounded by, I needed to do that.

“So I kissed her, so that she’d know that she wasn’t alone, so that she’d remember that she was loved, and… and to say goodbye.”

He looked up to meet Peggy’s gaze, softer now, though still edged with hurt.

“So, yes, a part of me might always love Reese,” He admitted, apologetic, “But I always knew that was never going anywhere. But you… I don’t know what we might be able to have, but it could be so much more than that. We have a chance at a future, and it’s one I’d really like the opportunity to see. For that to work, I need you to know the truth about this.”

Peggy stared at him for a long moment, then cleared her throat.

“That’s a great deal to think about.” She spoke quietly and gently, though somewhat uncertain, “I believe I need some time to consider all of this properly.”

She watched him for a moment longer and then sighed, “But perhaps another day you could tell me more about this future you’re envisaging.”

With a small, sad smile, she turned and opened the door to escape into the quiet hallways of the base.

Steve watched her go and slumped against the wall.

That had, overall, gone better than he’d feared, but he didn’t know what to do now. His heart was so full of so many things, and between the promise he’d made when he agreed to the mission not to discuss the details with anyone who wasn’t absolutely necessary, and his promise so many years ago not to discuss time-travel with anyone ever, there was no one left that he could talk to who could possibly understand.

At a loss for anything else, he reached down to pick up the scrap of paper that Peggy had handed him, dropped at some point during their conversation. Inside, in Peggy’s tidy hand, were five short words.

_He can tell B everything_.

He felt tears well at the sight. Even now, she was looking out for him. She had so little support herself, but still she took the time to make sure he wasn’t alone in this.

Steve sniffed back the tears and straightened, pushing out the door to find Bucky.

He certainly had a lot to tell his best friend.

\--

Howard slipped into the bar, hovering in the doorway as he scanned the room. He spotted his quarry in a back corner, the pair hunched together over a few drinks.

Detouring past the bar, Howard dropped a large note on the counter in exchange for a whole bottle of whiskey before making his way back to join them.

He set the bottle down on the table with a solid _thunk_ and settled into the chair across from Steve and Bucky. They both looked up, guarded, dropping their conversation instantly.

Without preamble, Howard opened the whisky and started pouring.

“Stark,” Barnes sighed, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but this one’s a private party, okay? We can drink with you another night, but tonight… There’s just things that you can’t understand, and we can’t explain.”

“Oh, I understand. Why do you think I’m here?” Howard countered as he picked up his glass and tilted it towards them in a toast, “To Reese.”

They both froze, staring at him. After waiting another moment without a reaction, he shrugged and downed his glass anyway.

“How do you know about Reese?” Steve asked quietly, a hint of accusation in his tone.

“Wrong question,” Howard told him, pouring another drink, “You already know the answer to that question: It’s complicated and confidential. Same for you, I assume. The better question is _what_ do I know about Reese.”

Steve frowned in speculation and started to ask, “So, what do you –”

“No,” Bucky cut him off, glaring at both of them, “She keeps her stories to herself for a reason. We don’t want to know what she knows. We _shouldn’t_ know. So keep whatever you’ve managed to pick up to yourself.”

“Interesting. She gave me the impression I was the only person who understood that.” Howard glanced at him speculatively, sipping his second drink more slowly “And to clarify, I was going to comment on her terrible sense of humour.”

A moment of silence followed his statement, then Bucky snorted.

“Oh god,” He couldn’t stop the grin that took over his face even as he shook his head, “The _puns_.”

“Ugh,” Howard gave a mock shudder of horror, “And you know, I’m pretty sure every pseudonym she picked for herself was some kind of time-travel refence. H.G. Wells might be the only one I recognised, but I just _know_ all the others were, too.”

Steve let out a surprised laugh, “Yeah, actually. That makes a lot of sense. She said the first one was an excellent joke.”

“More likely a terrible joke,” Howard disagreed, “I would bet a hundred bucks it’s a terrible joke. Who’s gonna take me up on that?”

“Pass,” Bucky shook his head, “Terrible odds, and we’ll probably never know the answer.”

“Speak for yourself,” Howard argued, “I refuse to die until I understand every reference she let slip.”

Steve grinned as they exchanged inconsequential moments, tiny details that didn’t matter in the slightest and were the most important details in the world. They talked about the things that made Reese whoever she really was, the things that had nothing to do with where she’d come from or why.

It helped, Steve realised. It was a bittersweet balm to his soul to hear the stories, to laugh about the memories, to remember that there were people who truly knew her and would never forget.

Thinking back on her words, the way she’d said them, Steve felt the joy fade from the moment.

What kind of comfort was it, really, to know that there were others to love her if she didn’t come back?

She still wouldn’t be coming back.

“She thinks she’s going to die over there.” Steve admitted quietly, breaking through the laughter.

Both men looked at him, taking in his words.

Howard seemed lost for words, horror lurking in the back of his eyes as his imagination ran away with the statement.

Bucky snorted, “Well, she’s an idiot then.”

“What?” Steve shot him a baffled frown.

“She’s smart.” Bucky told him, absolute conviction in his voice, “She’s even more stubborn than you. And she knows exactly what she’s doing. I’ll double Stark’s bet from before – two hundred says she gets everything exactly right.”

“She’s only human, Bucky, and she’s been making it all up from the start.” Steve wished he could follow his friend’s optimism, but Bucky hadn’t been there. He hadn’t been there the moment she landed to see how lost and unprepared she was; he wasn’t there when she’d broken down the first time she’d tried to kill Pinstripes; and he hadn’t seen her, just a week ago, empty and aching and out of hope.

“Exactly,” Bucky shrugged, “And she still always got it right. This is no different.”

Howard gave Bucky an intrigued look, “You really believe that don’t you? No doubt at all?”

“Last time I doubted her she told me something I didn’t want to hear,” Bucky admitted, “And it turned out to be exactly what I needed to know. I don’t make the same mistakes twice.”

“You’re right,” Howard nodded decisively, pushing his own fears and doubts back, choosing to embrace Bucky’s hope instead, “And only an idiot would take a sucker bet like that. I didn’t get rich by just handing people two hundred dollars ‘cause they ask.”

Steve watched them both as they clinked their glasses in agreement.

Maybe they were right. She’d certainly gotten through a lot already. Hell, he’d told her she could do it when her despair was staring him in the face, he could hold onto that a while longer.

Maybe she wouldn’t make it out, but he wasn’t ready to give up on her yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I need to disclaimer something here: this Steve/Peggy conversation is the most I'll be going into that relationship. 
> 
> I thought about it a lot and wavered back and forth for ages. I know their conversation here feels unfinished, and it's pretty vague about how their next conversation might go, though I did try to steer it towards a hopeful/optimistic feel. But, the plot will be carrying us elsewhere, and it just didn't feel right to try and fit their next conversation into everything else that's going to happen.
> 
> Plus, I kind of like having it unfinished and not entirely clear. Maybe they decide to go all in the next time they talk, maybe they decide to wait until the war is more under control, maybe they pick something in between those options. I wasn't entirely sure which way I'd want to go if I wrote it, so I just didn't write it. This way, you can decide for yourself.
> 
> There will be a few more glimpses of Steve/Peggy coming, but it's even more open to interpretation than this is. So, feel free to let your own imaginations take over their story.


	16. The Decision’s Been Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter... This chapter brings us to... a point. Or... the start of a thing. Maybe more the end of a thing? Something that can't be alluded to without alluding too much. Prepare yourself for... something.
> 
> You'll see soon enough what I'm talking about.

Darcy trudged lethargically through the snow towards the women’s dorms.

It was weeks, now, that she’d been stationed at this latest base, biding her time and waiting for her chance. She’d been halfway here from the previous assignment, letters of recommendation in hand, when the news had come that the base she’d just vacated had been destroyed. What a surprise.

Unfortunately, they’d ordered her to head back and help deal with the fallout, see if there was anything that could be recovered.

The simultaneous destruction of both the main base and the secondary base had left the organisational structure in a shambles, and it was easy for her to make sure that there wasn’t anything useful left.

Fortunately, by the time she’d arrived most of the dead had been removed. She wasn’t sure she would have been able to handle that part.

Eventually, they let her leave again as she’d intended all along, bringing her to this base in late Autumn.

This base, which was just a few hours drive from the base she knew Pinstripes was at right now.

She was so, so close.

This was what she’d been working towards all along, she reminded herself. She’d decoded messages and befriended smugglers and joked with fucking Nazi’s for months so that she could get here. Almost where she needed to be.

There was just one more problem to overcome. There was minimal interaction between the two neighbouring bases, and she hadn’t yet had an excuse to go to the other one, or the time to sneak in without an excuse.

She was incredibly tempted to just steal a truck and drive over there, burning all bridges on her way out. If she guessed wrong and Pinstripes wasn’t there at the time, or if she failed to kill him again, then she’d have lost any chance of staying here to try again. But now that she was so close this waiting game was harder than ever.

There were options, though. There was one man who went back and forth between the two bases, and Darcy had started ingratiating herself with him. If she could convince him to take her along just once that might be enough.

So she continued to work, keeping the base running just this side of functional.

It was an art, really. She’d always been excellent at procrastinating and finding excuses for why she hadn’t completed something. Now, she’d turned it into a whole career. Her job was to keep the general day-to-day of the base running smoothly. To be kept around and be offered the kind of opportunities she needed to get closer to Pinstripes, she needed to appear very good at her job. But she was not willing to help Hydra be more efficient.

Instead, she fabricated other problems that she miraculously managed to solve with only minor impacts of the base. Because damp got into some of their stores, they would have to keep everyone on half rations until the next shipment arrived. So fortunate that she’d noticed quickly or they might have lost their entire grain store. Her solution to the ink shortage; one her predecessor somehow hadn’t noticed; kept the base functioning when it might have ground to a halt. It was unfortunate that the diluted ink had a tendency to smudge and messages were recorded incorrectly more often, but that was, surely, better than the alternative.

Sometimes, Darcy could almost imagine it was a game. It was easier if she could make herself think that way. Simply pulling a few pranks on the evil organisation. And all that she was playing for was her own life and the lives of millions of others.

She tried not to think about the stakes.

But today.

Today the stakes were hard to forget.

Today, she’d gotten a message from Peggy. A request for details about the train that Armin Zola would be on when he came to visit next week.

She’d spent hours pondering the right thing to do.

On the one hand, she wasn’t meant to interfere in things that hadn’t been touched by Pinstripes.

But the message she’d gotten from Peggy, though brief, managed to imply that her intel would be useful but not required. It suggested that whatever they were planning would go ahead without her help.

Did that mean that she may as well send what she could because what difference would it make? They were going to do what they were going to do, and the intel they’d asked for wasn’t significant enough to change their plans.

Or did it mean that she really shouldn’t send anything because what difference _could_ it make? If she told them something that she didn’t realise was important, would it change how they reacted to things? Could she afford to take that risk?

And then, there was the added issue that she knew they were meant to attack a train, sometime soon, that Armin Zola was on. If not this train, then when?

Which meant, really, she _did_ have intel that would change how they formed the mission.

She knew that not all of them would come back.

Her stomach had been in knots all day, churning away at the options and the lack of options.

Scenes of a heroic return played through her imagination, Bucky and Steve making it back after the attack, congratulating each other on a well-executed plan. Against her will, grins and hugs painted themselves across the backs of her eyelids.

No one would even need to know there’d been an alternative. No one would have to be haunted by the might-have-been. She could just drop a vague tip and change the whole world.

Except for how it might change the whole world.

She’d locked herself in the stationery cupboard, claiming it needed an inventory, when she could no longer hold back the tears.

Because she could see the other outcomes, too. She wasn’t sure which was worse to imagine. Thoughts of torture drifted through her mind. He’d lose a limb and he’d lose himself. She could imagine so many ways it could happen. A part of her thought it would be worse than she could imagine, but, god, she could imagine so much.

And Steve would be left behind. It would break him. She could picture his face, not so much in the moment, but in the mornings; she could imagine how it would hit him fresh each day when he woke up.

It was agony to even think about making them go through that.

But it might just have hurt more to imagine letting them escape it.

It would be short-lived, that alternate happy ending. There would still be the next attack, the plane that needed to be stopped. There was still a war to be won, injustice to be fought. She couldn’t protect them from that.

And if she stopped this, then where would she draw the line? Would she warn them about the plane? Save Steve as well?

How much would that change the future?

Enough that she’d have no where to go back to, she was certain. Enough that everything she thought she knew would become uncertain. There was no way to know how far those effects might travel.

She told herself that the decision had already been made. She’d made it years ago when she’d signed up to travel back in time. She’d made the decision when she’d watched Sarah Rogers die with relief in her heart because she couldn’t change it. She’d made the decision a thousand times when she’d had information that could have saved lives and she’d refused to share it.

She’d made the decision again and again and again, every single day.

And every single day she still had to choose once more.

It wasn’t a one-off choice. She could change her mind at any second and abandon the world she’d come from. Just because she’d chosen the same thing every day before this didn’t mean she was strong enough to do it one more time.

So… Was she?

The reasons she’d had to make this decision before hadn’t changed. The stakes were still higher than any one person should have to deal with. She’d lost so much of her soul already trying to keep the future on track.

What was one more atrocity amongst all the rest?

With sudden determination, she’d shoved herself out of the closet, striding through the halls to the small office where the spare, supposedly broken radio sat, largely unused. With shaking hands, not giving herself time to reconsider, she went through the motions of encoding her message and sent it out.

She gave them every detail she had about the timing of the train. And nothing else.

Today, she was still strong enough.

But with a week until the actual event, she wasn’t remotely sure that strength would last.

She’d thought that she would have to make that decision again each day until the train came, but she was so very wrong.

She had to make the decision again as she packed up her things for the evening. Again, as she walked through the snow to the dormitory, as she cooked quietly while another woman from the base chattered endlessly around her. She thought about changing her mind as she changed her clothes and got ready for bed.

And every endless moment, lying in the dark unable to go to sleep.

Had she made the right decision? Should she tell them everything? _Could_ she tell them everything? Was there a right option at all or was it just a whole terrifying pile of wrong ones?

She had to choose a thousand times, just the first night.

The next days followed the same pattern. Moving through her job and her pretend life in a haze, her mind churned through options and possibilities, second- and third- and twentieth-guessing. When she did finally sleep her dreams were full of screams and blood and falling and things that she couldn’t find and decisions that always turned out wrong.

Three times she went to send the message to cancel the mission. And sitting with the pencil in her hand, tip wavering over the first letter to encode the message, she faltered and froze.

And each time she walked away, message unsent.

When the day finally dawned, after a long night of no sleep at all, Darcy’s decision still stood as it had the first time she’d made it the week before.

Or, really, the first time she’d made it the day she’d met Bucky Barnes and chosen to keep her silence.

There was no time left to send a warning. They would be moving into position already.

Today, Bucky Barnes would fall.

Darcy shoved herself suddenly to her feet and began piling on clothes.

She’d made the choice. It wasn’t just letting it happen; she’d _made_ this happen. She couldn’t sit back and pretend that it wasn’t her fault and it didn’t affect her.

She owed Bucky so much; more than she could ever repay. She didn’t deserve to wait out the day in the aching comfort of a Nazi office.

She had to see for herself what her actions had created. She had to be sure that the future was still on track.

She had to be close… in case there was any chance that she could still save him.


	17. All Fall Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Graphic violence, character death and/or pseudo-death

It hadn’t been difficult to figure out the right place.

She knew the route the train was taking and understood enough about the tactics to see the best places to attack. With the few key details she remembered from history class, it was easy to spot the place they would board the train.

Then it was just finding a ravine about the right distance past that.

She’d left a note with a half-baked excuse for her absence. It simply said that she’d gotten a tip about time-sensitive information that she needed to follow up immediately.

Hopefully she’d be able to work out the rest of that story before she got back, but she wasn’t sure that would happen. She couldn’t really think at all right now.

It had been easy enough to borrow one of the vehicles at the base. The keys were kept in a box by the gate and they didn’t bother guarding them. The fuel was rationed, and better protected, so no one would get that far if they tried to steal one.

It would be far enough for her. She’d have to walk some way, but she’d have done that anyway to avoid drawing attention.

As she drove, she kept her mind determinedly on the road. It was slick with snow and needed total focus. If she let herself be distracted by irrelevant thoughts, she’d likely end up ploughing into a tree.

And the thoughts trying to squeeze into her head now could have sent her careening in the best weather.

So she focused on the road, and when irritating thoughts tried to slip through she recited song lyrics in her head. Nothing special, just songs that she knew so well the words would flow through her mind without stopping.

She wished she believed in something. She wished she’d ever believed in a god or higher power. In this moment, with Spice Girls lyrics rolling through her head on repeat, she wished she knew how to pray.

But she’d never been religious. Never particularly spiritual. She kept an open mind, but the only thing Darcy Lewis really believed in was people.

Sure, people could be terrible, but she’d always believed that if they were just given the chance, just shown the way, then most people would choose to be amazing instead.

It was hard to hold onto that here, at the height of Nazi power. It was hard to remember that people were capable of standing up for each other when she’d been undercover for so long in an organisation that would rather step _on_ people.

Through all of it, she held onto a handful of people as proof that humanity was worth it.

And now she was driving out to watch one of them fall.

Perhaps, if she’d ever believed in something more, then she’d have been able to hold onto that faith more easily.

But she’d still be driving, through a cold dark winter, desperately trying to keep her mind from thinking about what she would do when she arrived.

She knew exactly where she was going. She’d marked in her mind where to turn off when she’d been on a supply run three days ago. Six days ago she’d calculated as best she could the timing of the attack on the train, coming up with her best estimate for when and where Bucky would fall. Yesterday, she’d stared at maps and worked out about how long it would take to get there.

She’d told herself it didn’t mean anything, but she couldn’t fool herself now. She’d always intended to come.

About an hour’s drive from the camp, she turned off the main road into the woods. For another twenty minutes she managed to ease the truck between the trees, but eventually she had to accept that the rest of the trip would be on foot.

A glance at her watch confirmed she still had plenty of time. As long as the path there wasn’t too problematic, she’d get to the ravine before the train did. She would have time to find a good vantage point.

She would have time to think about what the fuck she was doing here.

Was she here to change things or to make sure they stayed the same? Was she going so she could bear witness to one of the worst things she’d allowed to happen, or was she going so she could save a good man from a terrible fate?

She didn’t know. She couldn’t choose. She didn’t think she could live with either.

She could only put one foot in front of the other.

Maybe when she got there, she’d somehow know what to do.

The ravine was long enough that she couldn’t guess exactly where to go. Instead, she made her way towards a high, fairly central point that she could make out as she trudged through the trees. With luck, she would be able to see the train coming and pinpoint any action as it happened.

Like one of her best friends falling from life, falling into something even worse than death.

Why had she let this happen? She could have sent them a message last week, last month. She could have stopped this years ago.

It was too late to stop his fall now. She couldn’t contact them and warn them against the attack. There was no way to protect him from that.

But she didn’t have to let them take him.

If she was fast, maybe she could drag him away herself. He’d be hurt, but he had some kind of serum, right? Surely, she could look after him herself until he was strong enough to stand on his own again.

She still had a choice.

She always had a choice.

But she had always, always chosen the same.

How many lives was one life worth? How many moments of joy did it take to balance years of suffering? How much pain could one person give or take before there was nothing human left to them? What made one future better than any other?

Who the hell was she to decide?

She settled into a sheltered spot, clear of snow and hidden from outside by tightly packed trees. A glance at her watch told her she had about half an hour to wait.

And she still had no idea what she would do when the moment came.

It was too much time, and nowhere near enough.

She stared at the ravine ahead of her, eyes wide and unblinking, scared of missing a moment.

It was a beautiful place.

Peaceful.

The snow settled over the trees and rocks, blanketing the world in clean, white silence. The road didn’t come close to this place, the bustle of humanity out of reach. Only the glint of sunlight off the railway tracks above hinted at how close to civilisation the ravine really was.

There were worse places to die.

There were far worse places to live.

Bucky Barnes would see too many of those.

How had it come to this? How had things gotten so far beyond what she was capable of?

She remembered the day she’d left her own time. It was like a dream of someone else’s life after all this time, but it was also somehow the sharpest memory in her mind.

In the few short days that she and Jane had planned for this trip, Darcy had considered so many things.

She’d never have imagined this. She’d never imagined any of the things she’d seen.

A tiny shift of motion caught Darcy’s eye, and she froze, unable to breathe, unable to blink.

Across the valley, amongst the trees, a man edged forward intent upon the ridge above.

Of course. She should have expected this.

She’d come to see the death of Bucky Barnes, who was such an important part of her own story, her own soul.

He’d come to see the birth of the Winter Soldier, so vital to his plans.

It had been years since she’d seen him, years of hunting and chasing, but she recognised him in an instant. He still looked exactly the same as he had when he’d walked into her cell wearing the pinstriped suit that became his namesake.

Arthur Carrington, agent of Hydra, time-traveller, assassin, general asshole.

The target she’d been trying so hard to find.

She knew what she had to do.

The world had focussed into sudden, sharp clarity.

There was no question of what to do next.

Steeling her resolve, she moved as quietly as she could, backing out of his line of sight to flank him, slowly and silently.

The time for doubts and questions and fear had long since passed. How many times had she wished that she’d been capable of this on the very first day? How many aching moments had she dreamed of how simple it would have been to leave again as soon as she landed?

There was no other option this time, no back-up plan, no time for alternatives.

Today, she would kill him.

She didn’t have a weapon with her, too distracted in her grief and indecision to think clearly when she left the base. She had no gun, no knife, no blunt object.

But she had training now, and she had nothing left to lose.

Her hands went to her belt as she moved closer. Each foot was carefully placed to make no sound and leave no print.

When she caught a glimpse of the back of his head in front of her, she froze for a minute, making sure he hadn’t seen or heard her coming.

He moved his gaze periodically, scanning the ravine for motion, but his focus returned to the train line above each time without turning far enough back to spot her.

She let out a gentle breath, took another measured one, and moved forward.

He was crouched, resting on his heels, right hand balanced on a tree trunk next to him, left hand resting on a rock in front of him.

She edged slightly to the left for a better angle of approach.

His posture would work for her, though she had to be prepared for him to move as well.

She was just metres from him now, all attention on staying silent, keeping her breathing slow and even as Peggy had taught her, watching for any hint of motion in his spine.

She wrapped the leather of the belt slowly around one palm and then the other, pulling it taut in between.

A step, eyes on the spot she needed to reach for.

He jerked slightly as the distant sound of a train reached them.

A step, arms extending ahead of her.

He let out a faint huff of a laugh, so quiet she wouldn’t have heard it if she wasn’t so close.

Right behind him.

She lunged the last half metre, arms thrown out in front, reaching over his head.

He shifted in reaction to her motion, but before he could turn or draw a weapon or shout in surprise she pulled her arms back, twisting the belt tight around his throat.

The cold clarity that had carried her through the forest disappeared as he shoved back into her. His fingers scraped at the edges of the belt. He pushed backwards, trying to throw her off balance, trying to loosen her grip.

Her breath shifted suddenly into short gasps, adrenaline rushing through her. She moved with his motion, staying behind him, keeping her wrists crossed, leaning her weight onto her hands and, in turn, onto the belt.

She managed to get a knee against his spine, shoving him forward into the rock ahead.

Small sobs escaped her, terror all consuming.

He stopped trying to get a finger under the belt, hands reaching instead to his waist. She pulled him back slightly to shove him forwards, taking the chance to shift her feet into a better position.

She was ready when he pulled the knife. With her right leg braced against his back, she kicked out her left to knock the blade from his hand.

Tears blurred her vision.

He struggled in disturbing silence, unable to get any air to speak or cough or gasp. She made more noise than he did.

His feet scrambled for purchase.

In the distance, she heard a booming sound.

Her hands went numb with pressure.

A distant cry echoed through the ravine.

He managed to get a foot under himself, pushing up to standing, trying to get back his height advantage over her.

She turned her back to his, twisting the belt more firmly and held.

He toppled backward, feet scraping the ground, and she dropped to a knee, grip unmoving.

She closed her eyes as she held on, as his struggle slowed and stopped.

She held on as his weight above her changed, slipping to the side. She turned with the motion, letting him fall to the side without easing the pressure of the belt.

She wept as he fell, still and silent beside her.

She didn’t release the belt.

Humans could survive without breath for a little while. Minutes at least. She didn’t remember how many.

So she held on.

The tears fell silently. The wracking sobs that threatened to consume her were kept small and quiet. She’d had practice crying quietly in her years with Hydra.

She’d killed a man. Was killing a man. Wouldn’t stop killing him.

It was necessary. It was important.

It was a line she’d never wanted to cross.

She held her breath, choking back all sound when the shout went up. Voices calling to each other as they made their way into the ravine, drawn from whatever purpose they’d had in the area by the sound of the explosion.

Through the fog of horror consuming her, she picked up some of their words, called out without fear of eavesdroppers.

She heard when they found him, listened as they made a decision.

She waited, silent and still, as they dragged Bucky away.

When their voices had faded from earshot, she dropped. Sobs tore from her throat in earnest now. Whining gasps and wheezing moans. Sounds of grief she couldn’t seem to contain anymore.

Her hands shook as she extricated them from the belt. The tears and sobs wouldn’t stop as she shoved Pinstripes over to see his face.

There was no doubt that he was dead. There was nothing alive left in him.

Some part of her brain that was still capable of thought had her reaching to unwind the belt. It was her only one and couldn’t be left with him.

It had broken the skin in a couple of places, and spots of his blood were visible on the edges.

She picked up a handful of snow and rubbed it along the spots. They didn’t disappear, but they faded enough that they wouldn’t be noticed.

She shoved herself to the side as she threw up. Coughing out what little she had in her stomach.

She’d killed Carrington.

She’d let Bucky fall.

She’d completed her mission here.

She wretched again, though there was nothing to come up.

She felt lost, adrift. There was blood on her hands, and a hole in her soul.

She closed her eyes and forced herself to breath.

“Just one step.” She told herself, voice trembling, “First, just take one step.”

Swallowing back further nausea, she pushed herself carefully to her feet. After a moment of consideration, not knowing what else to do, she wrapped her weapon back around her waist and fastened it as if it was still just a belt.

She looked back at Carrington’s body. The life stolen from it by her hands.

Was she meant to bury it? Hide it? Burn it?

She couldn’t think, couldn’t work out what the consequences would be of any of it. She didn’t know how to hide a body, and a fire would only draw attention. She doubted she had the strength now to dig a grave.

There wasn’t anything she could do to make sure he was never found. Maybe she could delay it, but this wasn’t exactly the most populated area anyway.

It could be weeks before anyone found him here. Or it could be hours.

She forced herself to drop beside him again, forced herself to reach out with unsteady hands and dig in his pockets. She found some identification papers, a pocket-sized notebook, a locket with a picture inside it.

That evidence of the life he’d lived had her scrambling away again, bile rising in her throat.

She couldn’t bear to touch him further. If they found him, then they found him. She’d just have to make sure they had no reason to link it to her.

Shoving to her feet, she pushed the personal items she’d taken from him into a pocket. With luck, they wouldn’t identify him straight away. She just needed enough time to get back to base and come up with an excuse to leave, one that wouldn’t have people looking for her anytime soon.

She’d finished her mission. There was nothing to keep her here now.

With stumbling steps, she walked away from the man who had dragged her down this path. She tried to remember to cover her tracks as she walked, tried to keep her focus on the way ahead.

But she knew she’d never escape what she’d left behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yeah. I did that.


	18. What is Home Without You?

She drove even slower on the way back. Her hands were still shaking, her breathing uneven, and the road seemed even more treacherous than it had on the way out.

Plus, she wasn’t very motivated to get there quickly. She’d have to find a way to stop her hands from shaking, stop the tears that kept welling back up each time she thought she was through.

She wasn’t sure the mask she’d worn for Hydra would fit anymore.

But she had to find a way. That was the job. She could do this.

She could do it for Jane.

Jane was still waiting for her, just five minutes from when she left.

Darcy had failed so many people in this time, but she wouldn’t fail Jane.

She wouldn’t have to hold it together for long. Maybe a couple of days. Then she could make an excuse to leave and disappear from Hydra for good.

She stopped the truck just out of sight of the camp, taking a moment to pull herself together.

Her hair was tucked back under her hat, she straightened her coat and her… her belt.

Deep breaths slowed her racing heart, eased the shaking in her hands to trembles instead.

It would have to do.

The guards were surprised to see her at the gate, but they let her through without much fuss. A few disapproving comments about taking a truck without permission and they waved her through. She got similar comments when she parked the truck and handed over the keys, but she managed to convince them of the urgency of her trip and they didn’t ask further questions.

They trusted her. She’d made herself an integral part of this base in the short time she’d been here, and they had no reason to think she wasn’t loyal.

“Marta!” A voice called out just before she could escape into the relative safety of the woman’s dorms.

Darcy plastered an attempt at a smile on her face as she turned.

“Where have you been?” Jakob Strauss rushed up to her. “This is not a good day to disappear.”

“Jakob,” Darcy tried to remember how she’d been dealing with the man. She had been working to get close to him since she arrived. He was one of the top men at this base and had access to the base Pinstripes had been at. She’d thought she would need his help and had been especially friendly to him. Now she just wanted him out of her way, “I received a message that I had to investigate. Time was of the essence.”

“Yes, yes, I heard,” He shook his head, “But you could not have picked a worse day. We just heard. He’ll be here any moment.”

“Who?” Darcy frowned, confused.

“Oh, you’re a mess,” Jakob ignored the question as he looked her up and down. “He can’t meet you like this. He’s asked for you specifically. You must clean up, quickly.”

“What –?” Darcy attempted to ask but he simply cut her off, pushing her towards the dorms.

“Now, go! There’s no time. Make yourself presentable and meet me in my office immediately.”

Picking up on his panic, Darcy followed the instructions, trying to work out what was going on. She brushed out her hair and pinned it up in record time, changed into an outfit that didn’t require a belt and slid into the sensible heels she usually wore around the base.

Within ten minutes, she was in Strauss’ office, hoping she was prepared for whatever he was about to throw at her.

“Good, good, you’re here.” He relaxed slightly when she arrived, but she could see the fear still driving him, “Just in time.”

“What’s going on?” Darcy asked, “I was only gone for a matter of hours. What’s happened?”

“Where did you go?” He asked, frowning in confusion, “Your note was very vague. What information could have warranted such a sudden disappearance?”

Damn, Darcy had forgotten about that part. She scrambled for something convincing.

“Captain America,” She blurted, “He’s planning an attack somewhere near here soon. Really soon.”

“So, the rumours are true,” a voice came from behind her and Darcy spun to see a nightmare in the doorway.

The history books had mentioned Red Skull, but the descriptions had always seemed exaggerated, impossible.

The monster staring at her now was far too real.

She felt her chest seize up, certain that this was the end. What possible reason could he have to be here, to have asked for her, unless he knew?

“Herr Schmidt!” Jakob jumped to attention, bustling into action to offer the man a drink, a chair, to take his coat. “We are so honoured that you’ve come to visit us.”

Schmidt ignored him, eyes on Darcy.

“Your contacts must be deep in the enemy forces to give you the kinds of information you’ve provided Hydra over the years. And now this.” He nodded his head at her, almost like approval but that didn’t make any sense. “If only your sources had contacted you yesterday, perhaps we could have stopped Captain America when he attacked this morning.”

“I – What?” Darcy tried to pull her thoughts together, but she had no idea what was happening right now. Only utter certainty that she was one wrong word from dying.

“Your information is correct,” Schmidt explained, “But unfortunately too late. The attack occurred this morning and Dr Zola was taken captive by the enemy. He knows too many things and is unlikely to withstand interrogation for long. It is imperative that I hear as soon as possible what information they manage to extract from him.”

“Of course,” Darcy answered solemnly, thinking agreement would probably be the best bet.

“It is not any information that I need, but _accurate_ information. Your specialty, I understand.”

Darcy’s heart stuttered as she suddenly realised what he was saying, what he was asking.

“I can’t do it from here.” She jumped on the opportunity without hesitation, “These kinds of questions I’d need to ask in person. I’d have to go to London.”

Schmidt nodded, “We will arrange transport immediately. I assume Herr Strauss can act as your contact here.”

And he meant immediately. Within half an hour, Darcy was packed and loaded into a truck, rumbling out of the base.

She’d waved goodbye to the people who thought her their friend, promised to bring back some surprises from the trip, swore she would miss people and be back soon.

Perhaps the last lies she would have to tell here.

This was it. She wouldn’t have to come back. No more spying, no more cover stories.

Hydra would get her to London and she could lose them there.

As simple as that, Darcy was on her way home.

As quick as that, Darcy had no more distractions to keep her darker thoughts at bay.

\--

Steve stood to attention as the Last Post rang through the air.

The Howling Commandos arrayed at his back followed suit. Amongst them, he could hear the sniffs and sighs of contained grief, some struggling to keep their composure long enough to see their sergeant off with pride and honour.

Steve didn’t have that problem. He didn’t have any tears to choke back; he was empty, hollow.

He still didn’t believe it.

It had been over a week, and he kept expecting Bucky to wander in at any moment, offer up some joke about being late, laugh at everyone’s surprise, berate them for doubting him.

No matter how often he reminded himself that it wasn’t going to happen, still his head turned automatically at every motion in the corner of his eye, at every doorway that someone could step through, at every voice that called his name.

The last note trailed off and the salutes around him lowered. Slowly, Steve dropped his own arm, following the motions of what was expected.

It was a small memorial service. Or, it was meant to be. After the carefully edited footage from one of their campaigns was released all of the Howling Commandos had gained their own fans, and Bucky had more than his share. News had leaked about his fall, about the service, and crowds had gathered at the edges to pay their respects.

Without a body, Bucky was officially listed as missing, and it would be up to his family to arrange a proper funeral when the wheels of bureaucracy turned enough to declare him dead. Steve had already been told, multiple times, that there was no capacity to recover Bucky’s body and no attempt would be made.

He wished he could have brought Bucky home. He wished he could have stayed there too. Instead, Bucky would lie alone, abandoned at the bottom of that ravine.

Perhaps it would have made more sense if Steve could have brought his body home. Perhaps he’d be able to wrap his head around it all and accept what had happened.

Or perhaps not. How could Steve Rogers ever exist in a world without Bucky Barnes?

Beside him, Peggy shifted closer, ignoring protocol and appearances to take his hand, lacing their fingers together.

She’d stayed up with him, most the night, as he stared at pen and paper trying to find the words, any words, for Bucky’s family.

The form letter that would have been sent to them by the army was vague at best, Steve knew, with a core message of uncertainty and the possibilities other than death. When the months passed with no sign of him, then they would send the other letter.

Much as he struggled to accept it himself, Steve was certain that Bucky’s family should hear now, from him, that there was no hope of Bucky coming home. Waiting for that news would only hurt them more.

He owed them the truth. He owed them more than that.

But how could he convince them when he couldn’t seem to convince himself?

Logically, there was no doubt. No one could have survived that fall. He knew that. He just didn’t believe it.

The minister had drawn the service to a close, and people had begun filing out of the church. Steve kept a grip on Peggy’s hand as they moved into the aisle and out towards the world, not caring today what anyone might think of it.

Steve stumbled as a single face among the crowd drew his eye. He stared, certain he was imagining things, but as he watched she fell into step next to Howard who looped his arm with hers without hesitation, moving together as if they’d expected to see each other here.

The instinctive relief that rushed through him at the sight of her was followed quickly by confusion.

“What is she doing here?” He murmured to Peggy as they made their way to the convoy of vehicles that would take them back to base.

“I don’t know.” Peggy whispered, her voice equally confused and concerned.

Across the way, Howard led her to his own, private vehicle. She turned as Howard opened the door for her, and Steve caught her eye properly.

The look on her face sent a fracture through the emptiness he’d carried since Bucky fell.

It wasn’t merely the lack of body that made it hard for Steve to believe that Bucky was really gone. It wasn’t just the usual delusion of immortality and ‘it won’t happen to me’ that most humans carried until proven wrong.

A slow, deep rage gathered in his heart.

Of all the people around him, Steve had worried least about Bucky. Everything she had ever said, everything she’d ever done, had told him that Bucky, at least, would be safe. She never worried about Bucky making it home. She never questioned Bucky’s place in the army. She’d given them every reason to believe that Bucky would survive this war.

Steve had believed in her like he’d never believed in anyone else. He’d have followed any order she gave without hesitation, certain that she would never do anything to hurt him.

But her face had been written in a guilt he couldn’t mistake.

She had known.

She had let this happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you really think this was going to be another happy reunion?


	19. Remorse Means Nothing Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's another chapter already. I was never going to hold you in suspense at a time like this.
> 
> As many of you have guessed, this chapter is not a fun one (don't tell me how long it's been since a fun one. I don't want to know). Emotions are high. Grief affects people in all sorts of ways. And, to be honest, I think the reactions here are pretty reasonable in the circumstances.

Steve stormed through the base, Peggy striding at his heels. Around them, men fell out of the way. They all knew where he’d been today, could see the anger boiling below the surface.

No one wanted to be in the line of fire when he broke.

He must have been imagining it, he tried to tell himself. He couldn’t possibly have seen what he thought he did in her eyes. Perhaps the guilt he’d glimpsed was for some other reason; for not realising the future had changed enough to put Bucky at risk, for not making it back before the memorial service.

Except, he could still see it, clear as day in his mind.

He made straight for Howard’s lab, certain that the familiar – and secure – space was where Howard would have taken her.

Peggy didn’t question him, didn’t try to stop him. He was sure she could feel his anger, perceptive as she was, but she simply followed him, solid at his back.

He shoved through the door to find Howard awkwardly patting Reese’s back. They pulled apart as Peggy shut and locked the door behind them, Reese dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve.

“Steve,” She stepped towards him, reaching out, “I’m so –”

“Did you know?” Steve cut her off coldly, needing to know for sure, needing to hear her say it.

“I –” She pulled her hand back, heartbreak on her face, “Steve, it’s not –”

“Did. You. Know?” He interrupted, biting out each word with barely held in fury.

She swallowed, closed her eyes for a moment, and then answered.

“Yes.”

Her whisper was full of pain and guilt.

He hated her for it.

Anger stole his breath. His hands curled into fists as he struggled to find any words that could possibly encompass this.

She’d done this. She’d sat back and watched and done _nothing_. She’d let them believe in the future, in each other. She’d made them believe in her.

And the whole time she’d been planning for Bucky to die.

He still couldn’t believe it, couldn’t replace the friend in his memories, the lover in his heart, with the cold-blooded person standing before him. How could they possibly be the same person? How could she have spent all those days with them, laughing and crying, speaking of love and the future, knowing what was coming?

“Tell me you couldn’t have stopped it.” Steve’s voice trembled in a barely controlled whisper, his eyes dark with rage and pain and disbelief, “Tell me it was like Ma, or Dr Erskine. Tell me that you didn’t know enough to stop it.”

Tears spilled over her cheeks and the look in her eye broke the last thread of faith he had left. She opened her mouth twice but had no words to offer.

“He _trusted_ you.” Steve shot at her, voice rising sharply, “And the whole time you’ve been preparing for this! Was it all just a game? Just the job? Make us think you care so you can line us up to die when you think we’re meant to? You lied to us from the first day!”

“I’m sorry.” She let out the words on a sob, shaking with tears and emotions he couldn’t believe anymore.

“Sorry?” He stepped towards her, feeling a bitter pleasure at the way she flinched back from him, “You’re sorry? You _killed_ him.”

His words made her jerk backwards even more. He relished the discomfort it caused her. He wanted to make her feel every bit of the pain he did.

There was no defence possible for this, no penance great enough. She’d forced her way into their hearts just to tear them apart and there could be no forgiveness for that.

The anger consumed him. He wanted to yell. He wanted to throw things. He wanted her to know just how much he despised her.

He wanted to weep.

He felt like he’d lost another friend today. But instead of watching her die, he had to learn that she’d never existed at all.

And still she stood in front of him, crying as if she’d had anything to lose here.

He stumbled back a step, shaking his head at her.

He couldn’t bear to look at her a second more.

“You disgust me.” He choked out.

He spun and strode for the door, barely noticing the lock splinter and snap in his haste to escape.

\--

Peggy watched Steve disappear, her heart aching for his loss. Her own breath trembled as she fought to keep her emotions off her face.

Steadying herself, she turned back to face Reese.

She’d always known that the other woman was keeping secrets. Peggy had, in fact, counselled her to keep many of them, though she’d done her best to talk her into giving up a few more.

But Peggy hadn’t believed her capable of this kind of betrayal.

It threw her off balance, the realisation that she’d missed the signs. Her career, her entire purpose, relied on her certainty that she was an excellent judge of character, on her ability to understand what drove people and predict how they would react to any situation.

She hadn’t seen this coming at all.

“Are there any other deaths that you’re not telling us about?” Peggy asked her coldly.

Reese closed her eyes in defeat at the question, and a tiny part of Peggy whispered that she was meant to be on the same side, that the mission was important.

After a breath, Reese opened her eyes again, meeting Peggy’s gaze with empty resignation.

She didn’t say a word.

A shard of icy fear stabbed through Peggy at the look, silencing any placating voices in her head with the knowledge that there could be worse still to come.

“I thought you came to _save_ lives.” Peggy stared at Reese, unable to align this woman with the one she’d been working with for so long. “How could this possibly save lives?”

Reese looked away again, her sobs dying away though tears continued to flow silently.

She didn’t try to answer, didn’t fumble for words. She simply waited, quiet and broken, for Peggy’s questions to stop.

“Why did you even come back here?” Peggy asked scathingly, all semblance of professionalism lost entirely, “Don’t you have a mission to get back to? Isn’t that more important than any of our lives?”

Reese let out a bitter, broken laugh and finally spoke.

“I finished it,” Her voice was full of self-disgust, “Job done.”

“Well,” Peggy sniffed derisively, though she tucked the information away to be considered in more detail later, “Good. That means you can leave. I think you’ve done enough damage here.”

Without another word, Peggy turned to walk to the door with carefully even steps. She held her head high and kept her emotions clamped firmly under her control.

Her own emotions weren’t important right now. She had to find Steve.

This wasn’t the time to leave him alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! Except I really think this was right for the characters and the story so I guess I'm not sorry at all.
> 
> Don't worry, I'm still not planning on leaving you hanging. Barring unforeseen circumstances, the next chapter will be out around the same time tomorrow.


	20. Who Could Possibly Understand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I've done my job well when I get comments that reflect things I've already written but haven't posted yet (no, in not going to tell you which comments come close). It's good to know that where I've taken the story makes sense. And I think I've still got a few surprises up my sleeve for everyone.
> 
> I doubt I'll be able to maintain this posting every day pace, but the next chapter will be up in the next few days.
> 
> You may want to keep those tissues handy for this chapter.

Darcy stood in silence after Peggy left, her eyes still closed, wishing she could erase herself from this moment, from this decade.

She waited, silently, for Howard to follow the others, or take his own shots at her. He’d stood unmoving at her back while Steve and Peggy took their turns telling her things she already knew too well.

If he was waiting for his turn, she’d rather he just took it. Get it all over with.

“They’re right,” Darcy admitted, needing this conversation to be behind her, “I could have found a way to save him. I could have changed this.”

“You couldn’t,” Howard answered immediately, confidently, “You know messing with events is too risky. You need to save the future.”

His certainty threw her. How could he possibly believe that now?

“But Bucky…” Darcy let out a small sob, “God, they’ll never forgive me.”

“They’ll come around.” Howard told her, and she shot him an incredulous look, “Well, yeah, Rogers will probably take some time. But I’d bet money Peggy will be apologising to you within the week. She’ll remember the big picture soon enough. And I know Bucky wouldn’t have held it against you.”

She stared at him, the impossibility of the statement derailing her own dark thoughts for a moment.

“How can you say that?” She asked him, shocked, “I could have stopped this. I could have saved him. You don’t even know what –” She broke off before she could say too much, confess that it wasn’t death she'd failed to save him from. “He would have every right to hate me forever.”

“But he wouldn’t,” Howard said calmly, “Because Barnes believed in you and what you’re doing more than any of us. More even than me. Bucky would have forgiven you. Probably would have slapped Steve round the head for what he said to you, too.”

Darcy stared at him for a moment, wishing she could believe him. Other agonising events to come crawled into her mind and she found herself speaking before she could reconsider; unable to bear the answer, but unable to stop herself asking, “Would you forgive me?”

“I’ve already forgiven you,” He shrugged, “What happened to Barnes was terrible, but it wasn’t your fault.”

“No,” Darcy knew she should stop, but had to see this through, “I mean, if it was you. If you found out that I knew how you were going to die and did nothing about it, would you be able to forgive me?”

Howard stared at her in silence. He cleared his throat, but his voice was still shaky when he asked, “Do you?”

Darcy dropped her head into her hands, not knowing how to answer that, not knowing how _not_ to answer that.

“I come from a long way in the future, Howard,” She groaned into her palms, “Almost everyone I meet here will be dead long before I have a run in with a time machine. And if you don’t think the world will pay attention to how you die, then your ego isn’t as overinflated as I’d always believed.”

“Right,” Howard’s voice was higher pitched than normal, and he moved to start pacing, “Everybody dies. I know I’m going to die someday. It’s the middle of a war, I’ve always known it could be sooner rather than later. Is it sooner or later? No, don’t answer that, I don’t want to know.”

“See,” Darcy told him, gesturing towards him with bleak resignation, “What I’m doing here is horrible. And you wouldn’t forgive me if I let you die when I could save you.”

He turned a sharp-eyed gaze on her, “Could you save me? Is it the kind of thing you could change?”

Darcy shrugged helplessly, hopelessly, “Maybe.”

Howard looked down at his shoes, staring silently for a moment. She could see his hands clenching and unclenching in his pockets. She braced herself for the hatred and disgust she knew she’d see in his eyes when he looked back at her, if he ever looked at her again.

“Okay,” He spoke quietly, and when he looked up there was nothing but understanding there, “I forgive you.”

“I – What?” Darcy stared at him, uncomprehending, “You… you can’t. That’s not – It’s not okay. It’s not forgivable.”

“Too bad.” Howard said, firm and certain, “Because I’m forgiving you anyway. I trust you, Reese. I believe that you know more about the future than I ever will. I believe that what you’re doing here is worth a few lives; even if it’s mine.”

“No,” Darcy shook her head, tears spilling over her cheeks, “You can’t say that. You can’t – You don’t even know. You don’t know just how _extremely_ fucked up it all is. You can’t –”

She shoved away from the desk and turned to pace herself.

“And it’s not like my future is even that great!” She admitted, “Yeah, there were some terrible things that were stopped, but there were also some really horrific things that did happen. That continue to happen all the time! That’s the real secret here, Howard, the one I’ve never been able to admit. Things are really bad for a lot of people where I come from. Hate is everywhere. Bigotry, intolerance, extreme poverty, fucking climate change deniers. My future is the one with neo-Nazi’s building time machines. What if there’s a future out there without them?”

Howard frowned at her, confused, “What are you talking about, you said you come from the future where we win the war, that has to be the best outcome.”

“Yeah,” Darcy agreed, “We win this one, and then we just keep starting other ones. Violence is still all over the place. And worse. What if there’s a future out there that doesn’t even have neo-Nazis willing to risk the space-time continuum to try and save Hydra? What if there’s a world without white supremacists, without children being gunned down in their classrooms, without rape culture and transphobes and fascism on the rise again? What if I’m from the darkest timeline? What if I could have stopped it, and instead I just let Bucky fall?”

She spun back around to face Howard again, not actually looking at him, “And yeah, I believe that the Winter Soldier was just a tool and they’d just find another tool for the same jobs, but what if the other tools weren’t as effective? What if they wouldn’t have succeeded so often? How different could the world be? How much better?

“What if the world would be better if I just stopped trying to save it?”

“It’s wouldn’t,” Howard told her certainly.

“You can’t know that,” She shook her head at him, scraping wildly at the tears on her cheeks.

“Yes, I can,” He told her firmly. He grabbed her arms and lead her over to the only clear chair in the workroom. “Because you come from a future where the neo-Nazi’s best chance at winning is to work in secret to build a time machine to come back here. A freaking _time machine_ , Reese. Do you have any idea how many easier things they must have failed at to think that was their best shot? I can imagine a whole lot of worlds worse than that. You’ve let slip how much worse women are treated now, about diseases that you don’t even have to worry about, how horrifying you find some of the laws on our books. That means you come from a world with _better_ laws.”

“For now,” Darcy conceded hopelessly, “But things are getting worse. Laws are being changed.”

“All the more reason for you to get back there and keep fighting for the world you come from. And, Reese, there’s one more reason that I know your world is a good one.” He leaned down to meet her eye, “Because it’s got people in it willing to risk their lives, their happiness, their sanity, for the good of others. _You_ are solid, tangible proof that the future is a remarkable place.”

“What if I’m wrong?” She asked, “What if there’s another way?”

Howard sighed and stood up straight. He paused for a moment and then shook his head and moved to a corner of his workspace. He crouched to pull up an unremarkable section of the flooring under his main desk, revealing a safe underneath.

“You know,” He said as he spun the dial quickly through the pattern, “When you gave this to me, you seemed pretty sure you’d never need it. That it was stupid and risky. And then you told me to destroy it almost as soon as you gave it to me.

“But I didn’t destroy it,” He admitted as he pulled on something in the safe, revealing a hidden compartment within, “I thought it was stupid, that I should trust you, but there was something in the way you looked when you gave it to me.”

He closed the safe back up and stood to move back to her.

“Felt like there might come a day when you would need it.” He held out a familiar envelope.

Darcy reached out with trembling hands and took it, turning it over to inspect the object she’d agonised over for an entire sleepless night. It felt like a lifetime ago now.

“You didn’t open it,” She noted.

“You told me not to,” He reminded her, “Plus, you told me it was written in a code I’d never decipher.”

Darcy snorted, “I lied, I couldn’t figure out any code let alone one that would be beyond you.”

“I know,” Howard smirked, “Why do you think I didn’t open it? Let’s be honest, the challenge of a code no one could work out would have made my curiosity overwhelm my good intentions. Fortunately, I could tell you were lying.”

He moved back, giving her space to open the envelope at her own pace.

Her hands trembled as she slowly broke the seal and pulled out the two pages covered in familiar handwriting, and she read.

    

_Dear Darcy,_

  


_That’s right, that’s you. I said it. Probably been a while since you heard your real name (or read it)._

  


_I’ve been here for over a year now. And I am running out of hope that I might be able to finish this soon. It feels like it could take years._

  


_Obviously, that worries me for a lot of reasons. But, right now, there’s one in particular that’s weighing on me._

  


_I worry that I’m going to change my mind._

  


_If you’re reading this, it (probably) means that you’re wavering._

  


_It’s okay. I get it._

  


_I’ve only been here a year and already these people are so important to me, and this time feels more real than the future I was born in._

  


_I watched Sarah Rogers die from something I know is treatable in the future. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done._

  


_I doubt it’s the hardest thing you’ve done._

  


_We fell in love with Steve harder and faster than I thought possible. Broke his heart and walked away._

  


_I worry that you’ve never seen him again, because I can’t imagine never seeing him again. But I worry more that you have. All the different ways you might have seen him again. All the heart-breaking ways you might have had to say goodbye. Again._

  


_I know what’s coming. I can guess what living it might do to me._

  


_So, I think you’ll need a reminder. From the only person who can possibly understand._

  


_WE CANNOT SAVE THEM._

  


_I know you want to. Because I want to. But I’ve thought about this a lot. I’ve done the mental gymnastics required to work backwards through causality. It can’t be done. And in case you’re having doubts about that now, here are the things that you know are certain:_

  1. _You can’t change what happens on Asgard. It’s beyond your reach. Thor will come._
  2. _Much as we like to tell the story like you and Jane saved Puente Antiguo, we didn’t. Even if Jane isn’t there to worm her way into Thor’s heart, he’d still walk, helpless and human, to face down a deathbot when a whole town is at stake. That’s who he is. You can’t change that. Thor will always beat Loki._
  3. _The tesseract is on Earth and you don’t have a way to send it anywhere else. If the good guys don’t find it, then probably someone else will. And if it’s left at the bottom of the ocean, you know Loki would be able to reach it anyway._
  4. _Which means, no matter what you do here; no matter who you save or who you destroy; Loki will bring an alien army to Earth._



_You cannot stop him._

  


_But the Avengers can._

  1. _Captain America saved thousands of lives that day._
  2. _A former Russian spy trained by the Winter Soldier closed the portal._
  3. _SHIELD, even with its darker parasite, is what brought them together._
  4. _Iron Man stopped the nuke._
  5. _Shit, this one’s hard to write. I’ve been staring at the page for 20 minutes._



_Okay._

  


_We can do this._

  1. _Obadiah Stane caused the creation of Iron Man. And if Howard survived longer, then Stane might never get the position of power over Tony that led to those events. And Iron Man might never exist._



_Which brings us to the final point. This one may not be 100% certain, I know. There’s no way to know for sure, but you can see the logic is there. And the stakes are way too high to be playing the odds._

  1. _If you stop the Winter Soldier, then it’s possible that a nuclear warhead will wipe out Manhattan._



_You cannot save them._

  


_I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you something different. I wish I could make this okay._

  


_It’s not okay. But it’s true._

  


_Saving them could kill millions._

  


_Not saving them is likely to cost me my sanity, any friendships I’ve made here, who I am. But those things aren’t worth more than all of the people in Manhattan. Those things are worthless to anyone but me._

  


_And, one way or another, I doubt I’ll be worth much of anything after this._

  


_I want to tell you to stay strong, that you can do this. But I can’t fool you. You know the truth already. That I’m not sure we can do this. That the kind of strength required for this is unimaginable._

  


_But you’ve made it this far. You’ve made it further than I thought you would when I sat down to write this. After all the shit that you’ve been through, you can’t give up now. You can’t let it be for nothing._

  


_The only way out is through. The only way back home is forward into hell._

  


_Winston Churchill is out there somewhere, and you know what he may or may not ever say about going through hell._

  


_Keep going._

  


_Just keep going, Darcy._

  


_It’s not going to get easier, and you’re not going to get stronger._

  


_But you have to keep going anyway._

  


_The alternative is much, much worse._

  


_Good luck._

Darcy read the letter through three times. Then she sat and stared at the page through silent tears. She closed her eyes, remembering the feel of the pen in her hand as she wrote this, the uncertainty, the fear and doubt. The knowledge that things were going to get worse than she could imagine.

And they had.

Darcy took a steadying breath, and carefully folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. She stood and walked over to where Howard was leaning against the wall, a solid presence, giving her space but unwilling to leave her alone.

“Thank you,” She told him and held out the letter, “Can you hold onto this in case I need it again?”

He took the envelope gingerly, holding the flap down as if the information inside might escape if it wasn’t kept closed.

“Are you going to be okay, kid?” Howard asked gently.

“Probably not,” She admitted with a shrug, “But I’m going to keep going.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The return of Chekhov's envelope.


	21. A Time for Goodbyes

“Schmidt’s most likely to take me here,” Steve was leaning over the table, pointing something out on the map Zola had given them. “A few people could get in through those windows, we hit ‘em from the inside at the same time we strike from the outside.”

Darcy lurked in the doorway, unable to look away.

Peggy had told her she should leave, and Darcy knew she was probably right.

Pinstripes was gone. Arthur Carrington, she reminded herself. She’d spent so long refusing to use his name at all, afraid what leaving it in the past might do, but the pseudonym felt wrong to her now.

She’d taken his life. The least she could do was remember his name.

So, Carrington was gone. She’d killed him, like she should have done on the first day. There was no reason left for her to stay here.

Certainly, Steve didn’t want her around.

The only person still talking to her was Howard. Even the Howling Commandos that she’d met so briefly were avoiding her. They didn’t know why, but they knew their Captain was pissed and that was a good enough reason to them.

She’d slept the previous night in Howard’s lab, unwilling to face the questions that would have been asked if she’d tried to get a room on the base. She wasn’t exactly sleeping much anyway. In the dark, quiet stillness, her head filled with Carrington’s empty eyes, Bucky’s echoing shout, leather cutting into her fingers.

She should just go. End this. Skip to the end to see how it all turns out. It’s not like she ever really belonged here. This was always meant to be a passing visit.

Everything had been ticked off the list. Carrington could do no more damage to the timeline. Howard had made her a weapon to knock out 12 people in an enclosed space as soon as she landed. No one would even look at her long enough to say goodbye.

There would be no closure in staying.

But she couldn’t walk away. She couldn’t even _look_ away.

Her eyes clung to Steve as he spoke to the people around him, plotting to save the world. She could see the tension in him, the anger held tightly inside. And beneath that, shoved away where it wouldn’t get in his way, the grief.

She wondered who had been there for him yesterday. Who had held his hand? Who had listened to his stories? Who had talked about the meaningless things and thrown distractions at him and given him space to simply weep?

Would Peggy have done that for him? Or the men from his unit?

Or had he faced down the death of one friend and the betrayal of another alone?

She wondered if it was just the proverbial train wreck – she couldn’t look away simply because, more than anything, she _didn’t_ want to see what was about to happen.

Or was it like going to the ravine for Bucky? She’d caused this and didn’t have a right to leave without facing it herself.

Or it could be the dread feeling that she’d missed something, that it wasn’t over yet.

Or maybe she needed to see it for herself to be sure it all happened as it should.

But maybe it was just Steve.

Steve, who she still loved more than she’d thought possible.

Steve, who had saved her in so many ways.

Steve, who had opened his life and his heart and his home to her without a second’s thought.

Steve was suffering. Even if he didn’t want her around right now, how could she possibly leave someone she cared for behind when they were in pain.

“Just one problem,” the man in charge was saying. Phillips, she thought his name was, “To zipline through that window, they’d have to start from over here. And there happens to be a gun turret with a large-scale version of those blue energy guns pointing right that way. Not a chance anyone could make it in that way.”

“Why would they put a gun turret there?” Farnsworth asked in confusion, “That’s an absurd direction to be concerned about.”

“Except for the part where that’s exactly the direction we’re trying to get in from,” Phillips pointed out. “Who knows what was going through their minds when they built it, but we can’t get in as long as the Pinnacle is standing.”

Darcy straightened as cold realisation shot through her.

She should have trusted the feeling that she was missing something.

“Did you just say the _Pinnacle_?” Peggy asked sharply, eyes sliding briefly towards Darcy before skipping back to Phillips.

“Apparently, that’s what they call that gun turret. It’s manned 24/7 and it’s out of range of any of our weapons.” He replied. “As of right now, I’ve got no ideas on how to get past it.”

“I can take it down.” Darcy heard herself say the words before she’d even realised she was considering them. It shouldn’t have surprised her.

After all, what other choice could she make after everything she’d sacrificed for this.

The time to walk away had long since passed. At least, this way, she wouldn’t feel like she was abandoning them to their fate.

Even if she was.

“I can do it.” She spoke louder this time, committing herself to this one, last mission.

The whole room turned to look at her. She caught Steve’s gaze for a second before he looked away, fists clenched. She couldn’t tell what was going through his head, suspected she probably didn’t want to know.

“Who the bloody hell are you and how did you get in my war room?” Phillips asked angrily.

“Ah,” Howard shoved away from the table, coming to stand beside her, “She’s working with me on some…things.”

“I can get in.” Darcy met Phillips’ eye, knowing he was the one she needed to convince this time, “I can take down the Pinnacle.”

“How exactly do you think you can get in?” Phillips asked suspiciously.

“I was practically invited.” Darcy told him.

“She can get in.” Peggy spoke quietly from beside Phillips, and he turned to look at her. Some understanding passed between them when he met her eye, and Darcy wondered what Peggy might have told her boss about an undercover time-traveller.

“I assume the rest of your plans will work just fine if the Pinnacle is out of the picture?” Darcy raised a brow at him.

“Sir,” Steve spoke up, turmoil in his voice, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Phillips stared at her for a moment, assessing, then he nodded.

“You’ll have to leave now.” He said, “We’ll be rolling out ASAP and you’ll need to get there first.”

“Sir!” Steve pushed to his feet.

“Decision’s made, Rogers.” Phillips turned away to look at the plan of the Hydra base again. “Stark, get her on a plane.”

Darcy turned to follow Howard out into the hallways of their base.

“You don’t have to do this, Reese.” Howard spoke quietly, anxiously, “This isn’t your job.”

“This is exactly my job.” She told him, picking up the pace to move past him. She didn’t want questions now. No sympathetic looks or comments on stupidity.

This was what she was good at – pushing back any doubts or fears, brushing off any pain or loneliness, clamping down on any hopes or dreams and doing the goddamn job.

It was the only thing she knew how to do anymore.

\--

She was given half an hour to pack and prepare while the plane was checked and a pilot wrangled.

She didn’t have anything to pack.

Everything that she’d accumulated as part of the life she’d faked in Hydra had been left behind there. There was nothing she wanted from that time. If she could have left her memories behind, she’d have done that, too.

The few things she’d brought with her when she left Brooklyn had been left in Howard’s care, most of it still back in his mansion on the other side of the Atlantic. Relics of a time she now thought of as simpler, though she certainly hadn’t felt that way then.

She didn’t feel much connection to that person anymore.

There were only two things that she really valued. She’d carried one of them across the world on her mission, while the other stayed tucked away in Howard’s most secure safe with the instructions to keep it close.

Yesterday, he’d pulled it out of the same safe he’d kept her letter in.

She’d spent an hour staring at the two pieces. The small square that she hadn’t let out of her sight, and the bulk of the device that she remembered building with Jane years ago, decades from now.

For the first time in a very long time, she’d let herself imagine what it would be like to put those two pieces together again and push the button.

There was a chance it wouldn’t work at all. It had been years, there were a million different things that could have gone wrong in that time, and there was no way to test it ahead of time.

If the device was faulty, if time had caused something to rust, if travel had let dust get in somewhere it shouldn’t, if the math had been wrong all along, if Darcy had broken time to the point where there was no one on the other side looking to bring her back… If the button didn’t work, then she’d never know which ‘if’ had caused it.

She’d never know if any of this had been worth it.

Just another reason she wasn’t ready to try.

This mission should have scared her. Going alone into the very heart of Hydra, walking into the inner sanctum of a straight-up monster. She didn’t have a plan for getting past the gates, at least, not one beyond ‘walk up and ask to be let in’. The gun turret was hard to get to and not something she could pretend to stumble across. She had no idea how she would go about taking it out.

But there was comfort in this now. Running head first into danger without a plan, without understanding the consequences, without any real belief that she could pull it off, that was second nature to her now, that was her definition of normal.

Pushing the button to return to the future was far more terrifying than facing down Schmidt.

“Are you certain you know what you’re doing?”

Darcy turned to find Peggy standing behind her. The Agent Carter mask of professionalism was back, and Darcy wondered if she was about to get another dressing down.

She shrugged, “As much as I ever have.”

“This isn’t like your previous missions,” Peggy pointed out, “Those were long term, with the sole purpose of blending in and staying out of the way. You’ll have to be prepared for a more thorough interrogation when you get there, and you’ll need to talk or fight your way to the Pinnacle as quickly as possible.”

“I know,” Darcy nodded, “I’ll handle it. I’ve lost too much already to let one more thing get in the way.”

Peggy hesitated and then stepped towards her, “My outbreak yesterday was… regrettable. I may not agree with some of the decisions you’ve made, but I understand the difficult position that you’re in. We will see this through to the end, together.”

“Thanks,” Darcy blinked back tears, grateful for the step towards amends, but haunted by the knowledge of what was still to come, “And rest assured, I hate myself more than you or Steve ever could.”

Peggy sighed, part of the icy shield she’d kept between them melting at the admission.

“You should say goodbye to him.” Peggy told her. “If something goes wrong, you’ll both regret not taking the time when it was there. And if everything goes right, then it will be easier to make reparations if you’ve already made the first apology.”

“He doesn’t want to see me.” Darcy disagreed.

“Perhaps not, but that doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t.” Peggy glanced at the clock, “There’s still ten minutes before your plane will be ready. It’s your choice how you use it.”

Darcy watched as Peggy strode away.

Did she know? She’d suggested Darcy say her goodbyes, like she knew Steve wouldn’t be coming back from this mission. Surely, if she’d known, she would be taking the time to say goodbye herself.

Perhaps it was Darcy who she didn’t think was coming back.

Darcy walked slowly, uncertain if she wanted to reach her destination.

How would it help to start yelling at each other again?

But this might be the last chance she had to see him before they would both leave this world behind.

Tomorrow, he would crash his plane into the ice. She knew it wouldn’t kill him, not really, but she couldn’t think about the Steve Rogers in the future. She’d never met him, didn’t know him, had no idea how he’d survived everything that he’d been through.

She had no idea if the Steve Rogers in her future had met a time-traveller in this past.

In the doorway of the war room, she stopped. It had mostly cleared out since her announcement as people moved into action pulling together the pieces of their assault.

Steve was huddled in a corner, glaring at Howard and whispering angrily.

Perhaps it was better to let it go now. There was nothing she could hope for from this; no forgiveness or understanding.

He looked up and caught her eye just as she was about to turn away.

She steeled herself and walked into the room. This was hardly the hardest thing she’d had to do.

“I’m leaving.” She stopped a metre from them, eyes flicking to Howard before locking onto Steve. “I just wanted to say…” She trailed off at the enormity of what she wanted to say.

She wanted to say she was sorry. She wanted to say she was wrong. She wanted to say that it wasn’t what he thought, that the future was coming sooner than he’d believe and Bucky was waiting for him there.

But then she’d have to explain how Bucky was going to get there, and that she’d known all along, and that death would have been more merciful.

And they would go looking for Bucky, would try to change things, would wipe out the future she’d given everything to keep whole.

She wanted to tell him that she loved him, that she’d loved him all along, that she loved Bucky too. She wanted to explain that she couldn’t save him, couldn’t help him, that the only thing she’d _had_ to offer was her love. She’d given it all, every bit that she could, knowing it would never be enough, knowing that it couldn’t save anyone.

But that would only hurt him now. He wouldn’t believe it, would only see the lies and the betrayal.

There was no solace she could give.

She took a breath, “I wanted to say goodbye.”

The confusing mix of emotions was clear in Steve’s expression. It was almost a relief. That meant there was something in him that didn’t outright hate her.

“Why do you care?” His voice was tight with pain and anger, “You let Bucky die, but this you’ll do something about?”

Darcy hesitated, but she owed him at least this. “It’s not a coincidence that that gun is pointing right where you need to be. It wasn’t meant to be there.”

“Right,” He nodded bitterly, “This is all about checking off the boxes to get to your future. Was that all it was the whole time? Was it all just lies? Did it mean anything to you?”

“It meant everything to me,” Darcy whispered, fighting to keep her eyes dry. “But some things can’t be changed.”

“What makes your future so important anyway?” Steve asked, anger rising, “What could possibly make a world without Bucky a better one?”

Darcy closed her eyes, swallowing back the fear and the doubts that had plagued her for so long. He didn’t know how often she’d asked herself the same question, how uncertain she’d become of the answer. He couldn’t know that Bucky would be used to shape the world for decades, that she couldn’t begin to guess what changing that would do.

Darcy looked up at him, forcing herself to remain calm, steady.

“I –” She began but was interrupted before she could get the words out.

“Hey, you, whatever-your-name was.” She turned to see Phillips striding towards them. “They’re ready for you, get moving. Whole world is counting on you.”

Darcy nodded and glanced back at Steve.

“We could…” She paused, wondering if this was wise, “We could talk… after. If you still want to.”

He didn’t seem to have a response, so she simply turned and followed Colonel Phillips out of the room.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hands up - who forgot about the Pinnacle?


	22. What Does Victory Feel Like?

The pilot dropped Darcy miles from the last Hydra base, closer to a small town where she could steal a car for the rest of the trip.

She drove slowly as she got closer to the area, uncertain when they’d notice her coming.

At the sound of small engines around her, she slowed to a stop and climbed out of the car. She kept her arms out, palms open, as the motorcycles closed in.

“I need to talk to Herr Schmidt.” She spoke loudly to the guns pointed her way, “It’s important.”

After a murmured conversation that she couldn’t make out, a pair of soldiers approached and, after a thorough search of the vehicle and her, directed her to get back in the car and drive on.

Half of the motorcycles flanked her for the rest of the drive, while the others disappeared into the forest once more.

First obstacle down. If only she knew how many there were between her and the Pinnacle.

The next steps turned out to be easy. At the gate, she gave the name she’d been using all along with Hydra. After they called ahead on the radio for instructions, she was led directly to Schmidt’s office with no questions at all.

“I am surprised to see you here, Fraulein Braun.” Schmidt watched as she was escorted into the room, “Have you found what I asked for so quickly?”

“They know where to find you.” Darcy announced without hesitation, “How do you think I knew where to come? I left as soon as I heard. They needed another day to get their army together, and they won’t have been able to travel as quickly as I could alone, but they’ll be here soon. Possibly as early as tomorrow.”

Schmidt regarded her silently for a moment before smiling, “I appreciate your haste, Fraulein, but there is no need for concern. Tomorrow will be too late.”

“Oh.” Darcy replied, surprised that he didn’t seem to have any other questions for her. She’d prepared answers to so many things and he wasn’t asking any of them.

After a moment of silence, Darcy spoke again, trying to figure out what words would get her out of this room so she could find her way to her target, “Well, is there anything else I can do to help?”

Schmidt didn’t even answer, simply nodded at one of the men escorting her and waved them away.

She was led into the depths of the base, where she was handed off to a woman in the same uniform and mask as the men who’d brought her in. Along the way, she had to shout several _hail hydras_ when they were shouted at her.

To think, she’d almost believed she was past that.

The woman took her into a storage room, measured her, and handed her a uniform and mask to match everyone else.

Clearly, Hydra wasn’t keen on individual expression.

It worked to her benefit, though, as it let her move more freely around the base without raising suspicions.

She kept her head down and followed orders; carting supplies between a storage area and the hangar bay. She tried not to look at the monstrous plane that was being loaded. The sight filled her head with images of it falling, crashing.

There wasn’t time for those kinds of thoughts now.

The base was laid out in a symmetrical pattern, making it easy to find the way up. She knew the Pinnacle was on the eastern side, so she turned in that direction each time the halls and stairs curved away.

The timing was important. When Steve arrived, the people manning the Pinnacle would be radioed for their view from above. She needed to wait until they let him in, giving her less than five minutes to take the Pinnacle out of action before the Commandos would swing into view.

It was remarkably easy.

She waited just inside the door, listening as the radio call came in, the shouts of concern and description of the battle from the men out on the turret. When they called the all clear, she moved.

Neither of them were expecting an attack from behind them, and she got the drop on them easily. The first went down with a blow to the head from a heavy wrench she’d picked up on her way. The other tripped and fell over the side of the parapet.

She froze for a moment as she realised she’d killed another person, without knowing their name, or even their face.

But this was war, and this was necessary.

She dragged the remaining soldier inside the door, barricading it as best she could, then she got to work.

Removing the energy source was the tricky part. Howard had described in detail the destruction that had occurred when they’d tested the power source and she had no desire to recreate that here. She took her time extracting the glowing cell from the gun, setting it carefully apart from the rest.

The explosives she’d pilfered from the storage area where she’d changed were set inside the hole where the power cell had been, and she unrolled the wire of the detonator until she was a safe distance away. Instructions she’d carefully memorised before she left.

Finally, she reached inside her jacket for the one thing she’d smuggled in with her.

She lit the flare, waving it high above her head to signal the waiting troops.

Then she waited.

She waited as the ziplines shot through the air, as the men quickly followed. She waited through the sound of glass shattering somewhere below, the confused messages coming through the radio.

When she heard the other explosion, deep in the mountain, she pressed the button on her own bomb.

The Pinnacle, last weapon of Arthur Carrington, blew to pieces across the plateau. Darcy ducked, glad of the helmet she’d been given, as hot pieces of metal rained down around her.

She dropped back, pulling the mask from her face as she watched the reflected lights of battle.

She was done now. It was done.

This fight would rage, brief and brutal. The allies would win.

She stayed there, mind full of the battle she wasn’t really a part of, listening to the radio chatter, waiting for the end.

When she saw the plane, that dark behemoth full of death, ascend into the sky, she finally pushed herself to her feet and made her way inside.

\--

Darcy sat in the communications tower that she’d found her way to as the battle waned.

She was numb. Intentionally numb. She couldn’t let herself think or feel right now. She couldn’t let herself consider what was about to happen. Perhaps if she just ignored it, it wouldn’t happen at all.

Beside her, the radio buzzed to life against her wishes.

“Come in,” His painfully familiar voice echoed through the room, “This is Captain Rogers, do you read me?”

Morita was closest to the radio and moved to respond.

“Captain Rogers, what is your –” He broke off when Darcy pulled him from the radio.

“Get Peggy. Now.” She ordered. The dread in her eye sent him scurrying without a second’s hesitation.

Steeling herself, Darcy reached for the radio and clicked the button to talk.

“Steve?” She asked quietly, determined to keep her voice calm.

“Reese?” She could hear him clicking things and moving around slightly as he spoke. “I beat Schmidt, but the plane is…there’s…”

He trailed off, but she heard the realisation in his voice in the last words.

Against her will, her eyes closed. Tears welled as the agony of this moment consumed her.

It was worse than she’d imagined. So much worse.

“Did you know?” His voice was empty now, broken. In those few words she could hear his heartbreak and disgust, her betrayal. It was the sound of the moment when all hope and faith in the world runs out.

It took her two tries to clear her throat enough to speak, but her voice was surprisingly steady when she managed it.

“Yes.”

“You – How could you –?” The radio cut out for a moment and she was sure he’d stopped sending intentionally, creating the only distance he could between them.

When the radio crackled with his voice again, it was cold and determined.

“I can’t talk to you right now.” Steve spoke clearly, “I don’t want to hear your voice. In _this_ moment, how could you…? Find someone else.”

Darcy swallowed, nodding though she knew he couldn’t see her, “It’s okay. Peggy’s on her way. She’ll be here any second.”

“You did this to her, too, you know.” The accusation in his voice cut her to the core. Even though she’d expected it, even though she’d tried to prepare herself for it, even though she’d had a taste of it already after Bucky’s funeral, still, the dagger of pain at hearing it was more than she could bear.

“I know.” She croaked out.

A flurry of movement swept into the room and, before Darcy could speak or react, Peggy was pushing her out of the way to seize the microphone herself.

“Steve, is that you, are you alright?” Her voice was frantic with worry, but also relief.

A relied that would be short lived.

Darcy couldn’t stay and listen. Call her a coward, but she couldn’t watch the outcome of all her years of plotting.

“Peggy, Schmidt’s dead” Steve’s tone was lighter already, just having someone other than Darcy to talk to.

Darcy turned, pushing her way through the small crowd that had followed Peggy to the radio. She continued down the hall just far enough that she couldn’t hear either of their voices anymore, then she sank down to the floor, back against the wall.

She’d done it.

She’d completed her goal.

She’d kept history intact.

Mission accomplished.

She’d never felt like more of a failure.

Steps clattered down the hallway toward her, but Darcy kept her eyes blindly forward as they came around the corner and paused at the sight of her.

“Reese!” Howard jumped into motion again, dropping to a knee beside her, “Reese, what’s going on? Someone said something about Rogers?”

Darcy swallowed, eyes locked on the blank wall across from her. She couldn’t say it, couldn’t face seeing his face when he found out.

“Third door,” She nodded in the other direction down the hallway, “Peggy needs you.”

“Reese, are you okay?” Howard’s voice trembled with concern, “What happened?”

Darcy turned to look at him. When she spoke, her voice was broken, battered, bleak.

“I saved the future.” She told him, heart heavy with despair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry...


	23. No Time Like the Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say thanks for all the beautiful and excited and tearful comments. I haven't been able to reply to many recently, partly because the sheer volume is overwhelming, but I read every one and it means so much to see people connecting with this story and the characters. I know I've put them through the wringer, and you're all still here, trusting that I'll make it worth all the pain.
> 
> This is, as you've probably noticed, starting to draw towards the end. It's got that official chapter count up and everything. I hope what I've got left to give will meet your (terrifyingly high) expectations. I'm pretty proud of it, even if I'm second-guessing and getting more and more nervous the closer we get to the end.

It took days to get back to the London base after they brought down Hydra.

Days of planning and organising and burning anything that was left.

Days of silent fury and cold disgust directed at Darcy.

There wasn’t the space to talk about it, with others always around, and Peggy wouldn’t break her word to keep Darcy’s mission a secret. Not even if she hated her.

Which she clearly did.

There were radio calls and messages arranging scouting flights over the flight path of the Valkyrie. They’d had no luck so far, and Howard had warned that since the controls had been damaged, the plane may have gone well off the charted course before it crashed.

Even Howard was barely speaking to her.

“I still trust you,” He’d said, “And I do forgive you. But… he was a good man, a good friend. I just need some time to…” He’d shaken his head, voice thick with emotion, unable to find the end of that sentence.

Darcy hadn’t replied, hadn’t tried to talk to him or Peggy or anyone else. She’d kept her distance as they fully dismantled the last Hydra base, helping with the more menial jobs, leaving the people in mourning to themselves.

She didn’t know how to mourn for this. She didn’t know how to talk about the great man Steve was, how it was such a loss to the world, how it was such a loss to each person who knew him. She couldn’t join that conversation knowing that she’d helped cause it. She couldn’t listen to others grieving when she knew that, of all of them, she was the one who might actually see him again.

It wasn’t fair. They all deserved that more than she did.

She fell into the old patterns, clamp down on the emotions, do what’s right in front of you, focus on Jane to get through it.

Jane. Jane was waiting.

Darcy was ready.

She had nothing left to lose from trying now.

When they arrived back at the London base, she tracked down Howard and told him it was time. He’d given her a heavy, sad look but hadn’t questioned it. He’d simply thrown everyone out of his lab and gotten to work.

Darcy stared at the empty space that had been cleared in middle of the room, the table in the centre that would be sacrificed to her trip.

She’d explained the requirements to him, the two-metre radius. Better destroy a table than the floor, they’d agreed, grateful for the high ceilings of the lab.

She was dressed in the uniform that Hydra had given her, their mask altered slightly by Howard to protect her from his weapon. With luck, Hydra in the future would see a uniform from their past and assume she was on their side.

Darcy had wired a power cord into the recall device herself, long enough to reach the power outlet in the wall when she stood on top of the table.

She’d slid the little square that was her life and death back into the main device until it settled with a small _click_.

Everything was ready.

“You don’t have to go now.” Howard spoke from behind her.

“You’ll still have to keep a lookout.” Darcy twisted her hands together with nerves, speaking quickly, still keeping her mind focussed on the job. “Peggy has Pinstripes’ notes; there are other things that haven’t happened yet, things that he could have warned people about.”

“Reese.” Darcy could hear the question in Howard’s voice, the request.

She ignored it, pressing forward, “Like, um, the fire in ’63 that’s going to destroy a bunch of the records from this time. His notes were full of annoyance at that; certain that it would have been easier for them to change things if they’d had better information. He could have told someone to watch for it, to stop it.”

Howard sighed and walked over to a bench that had been shoved to the side of the room. He fiddled with something there and then came over with a small device.

“This lets out a very distinct signal. I can build a machine that can track this signal anywhere in the world, and I’ll set it up to keep watch for it, always. As soon as you arrive, that machine can send a message out, sending your location to people who can help.”

“Howard,” Darcy stared at the small device in surprise, “This is way beyond what we discussed.”

“Yeah, well,” Howard shrugged, “I’m an over achiever. But for this to work, you will have to tell me a couple things about the future. You’ll need to tell me who to address the message to, and… you’ll need to tell me your name.”

Darcy looked away, considering the possible implications. Part of her said she shouldn’t take the risk at all, but she was tired, and she didn’t know if she could take down the Hydra base that had held her and Jane captive for so many weeks on her own.

“Tony.” She spoke decisively, “You should make sure the message gets to Tony.”

“Tony?” Howard reached for a pen, “Last name? General date of birth? I assume there are quite a few Tonys in the future.”

“You’ll know him when you meet him.” Darcy smiled knowingly.

“And your name, so they’ll know what they’re looking for?” Howard asked, hesitant.

Darcy shook her head, “My name won’t matter. It’s Jane. Jane Foster. She’s the one they’ll come for.”

Howard frowned but wrote the name down carefully, checking the spelling.

“I still think you should stay.” He said, glancing up at her, “At least a little while? Give Peg a chance to cool off. I think you’ll both regret leaving things like this.”

Darcy looked away, “She has every right to be mad. I won’t force her to see me if she doesn’t want to.”

Howard sighed, “Did you even give her a chance to decide if she wants to?”

“Yeah,” Darcy nodded sadly, turning to look back at the table, “She knows I’m leaving now.”

“Oh,” Howard sounded disappointed. He stepped up beside her and they stood for a moment in silence, each considering everything that had happened and everything that could happen.

“You don’t have to go now.”

Darcy spun to see Peggy walking slowly across the room, having entered quietly while they weren’t paying attention.

“Peggy.” Darcy’s tenuous hold on her composure fractured at the sight of the woman, tears rose against her will.

“At least stay for the memorial service,” Peggy offered, and Darcy could see she was warring within herself, trying to balance her anger at Darcy with her compassion. “It might help give some closure.”

Darcy let out a small, sad laugh, “There’s no closure for me here. I’ve done enough damage. I can’t – I can’t stay and watch people mourn, knowing I could have saved them from that.”

“At least take a few days,” Howard suggested, “You don’t have to go to the service, you don’t have to talk to anyone. Just take a few days to recover, to prepare yourself. You don’t have to run straight into the next fight without stopping for a breath.”

“I need this to be over.” Darcy turned tearful looks on the best friends she had left here, people she had betrayed, who chose to stand beside her still. “I’m so sorry. I am so, so grateful for everything you’ve both done to help me. I never would have made it here without either of you. But I can’t bear being here. Knowing how much I’ve hurt you, knowing that if I stay, I’ll only hurt you more. Knowing that he’s out there, frozen and alone….” She trailed off, mind drifting to Steve and to Bucky and the lives they still had to live.

She shook her head, “I just need to end this. Finally end this. I need to go back. I need to save Jane. Then I can see if there’s any future left for me.”

 “Reese,” Peggy stepped forward, uncertainty in her voice, “Please, stay a while longer. Give us some time to… come to terms.”

Darcy gave Peggy an apologetic look, “I’m sorry, Peg, but I don’t know that there’s enough time in the world for that. And that’s okay. It’s okay if you can never forgive me. It’s okay if you hate me forever. But I can’t stay to find out.”

Peggy looked away, tears threatening to break her unshakeable composure.

When she looked back, her emotions were under control again and she nodded.

“I hope I will be able to forgive you, Reese,” She said, “Perhaps once I’ve seen more of the future you’ve been fighting for then I’ll understand.”

“Maybe,” Darcy agreed, “Someday… it will make more sense.”

Peggy stepped forward, holding out her hand for Darcy to shake, “Good luck. I hope you find your future was worth it.”

“Thank you, Peggy,” Darcy took her hand and held on, wanting to pull her in for a hug but understanding Peggy’s need for space right now, “You have been the best ally, the best friend, I could have asked for here. And you… you’re going to be amazing.”

Peggy swallowed and nodded, giving Darcy’s hand a squeeze before releasing her and stepping back.

“And you,” Darcy turned to Howard, “You already know you’re amazing.”

“Damn straight.” He agreed, putting down the pen and paper he’d been clutching and opening his arms to awkwardly offer her a hug.

Darcy stepped into his embrace with a laugh, “And you’re still terrible at hugs.”

She pulled back and smiled at him. “Thanks for trying, Howard. The hugging and the consoling. I mean, I’m grateful for the weapon and the locking things away as well, but those things come more naturally to you. It means a lot to me that you tried to be comforting too.”

Howard shook his head at her, “Time travel. It’s going to be hard to top this.”

“But you’ll never stop trying.” Darcy agreed.

“Never.” Howard promised. “Good luck, kid. Something tells me you’re still going to need it.”

Darcy stepped away, swallowing back her emotions again and drawing her mind into the cold focus that she’d learned to hold onto so carefully here. She tucked the device Howard had give her into her pocket, picked up the weapon he’d built and the recall device Jane had made so many decades from now.

“I am going to miss you both so much.” She turned to look at them. “I love you guys.”

She turned back, placing the things she held on the table to free her hands while she climbed on top.

A niggling part of her knew that this might not work. All these goodbyes, all these promises and sweet words, and they might get the time they asked for anyway. She might have to climb down off this table in a few short minutes and resign herself to living out the rest of her life here.

But now wasn’t the time for such thoughts. There was no space for doubt in this moment of action. There were no more words to say, no more excuses to make.

It was time to go home.


	24. The Slow Turning of the Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of an odd chapter and may not be anywhere near what you're expecting.

Darcy settled her feet firmly on the table, remembering how she’d stumbled the last time. She checked one more time that she had everything that she needed, then took one more steadying breath.

Nodding at Howard, she settled the mask over her face and raised both her hands.

The right held the weapon he’d built for her.

The left held the lifeline Jane had made, reassembled for the first time.

She shifted her left thumb until she could feel the small button.

The hair on the back of her neck rose. Pressure hit her ears. She didn’t flinch at the sudden noise, didn’t close her eyes at the flash of light.

She kept her feet as the floor dropped beneath her.

\--

_He didn’t know how long they’d been doing this. It was getting hard to remember all sorts of things._

_The electricity had been going on for… days, he thought. They stopped for food, for not enough sleep. He was pretty sure it was only days._

_Before the electricity there had been temperature, physical injury, starvation, lack of sleep, uncountable injections. Probably more that he’d forgotten. They were testing the extremes of what he could survive, he knew that much._

_And now he was losing his mind. He could feel the holes, knew there were things – important things – that he was forgetting._

_He had to hold on. This wasn’t the end. He knew that, even as other certainties left him. Her voice played on repeat in his mind._

_“Even if you can’t remember your own name”_

_His name was Bucky. He knew that. He wouldn’t forget._

_But if he did…_

_“No matter how bad it gets”_

_He just had to hold on. He just had to believe._

_“Steve Rogers will save you.”_

_\--_

_Peggy stared at the filing boxes stacked together in the corner. Tomorrow, they were due to be transferred to the new, more secure building where SHIELD intended to store all records and valuable or high-risk items going forward. Half of the boxes had been moved already, but Peggy had offered to help organise the move and had taken care to ensure files were moved in just the right order._

_The boxes in front of her held the files for the years that formed the foundation SHIELD was built on. So many stories and lives and losses tucked away in there which couldn’t be found anywhere else._

_Stories that could be dangerous in the wrong hands._

_She struck the match._

_\--_

_Howard stared down at the infant. He felt like he was still in shock, like he had been since Maria had told him she was pregnant so many months ago._

_He was overwhelmed with emotions, scared of all the things that could go wrong._

_But the name they’d agreed on was visible on the paperwork above the crib, and seeing it sent sudden clarity and certainty through him._

_“We’ll call you Tony.” Howard told his son, “And you’re going to see the future.”_

_\--_

_Howard picked up the phone as soon as his secretary transferred the call, “Peg? What’s going on?”_

_“Howard,” Her calm, familiar voice came over the line, “How are you?”_

_He frowned at the phone, turning away from the diagrams he’d been staring at, “Peg, you never call me at work unless it’s an emergency. What’s wrong?”_

_“Nothing’s wrong,” She reassured him, “I’ve just had a lovely afternoon with my niece. We went to see a movie together. There was a preview for a movie coming out next month called The Terminator. Have you heard of it?”_

_“Uh, sounds familiar,” Howard shook his head in confusion, mind already drifting back to the work her call had interrupted, “I think Tony was talking about that one.”_

_“I think I might come for a visit the week it comes out. We should go together.” She told him firmly._

_“Did you really call me to invite me to a movie a month from now?” Howard asked, still trying to align this conversation with the kind of relationship he and Peggy had had for so many decades._

_“Perhaps you should pay more attention when your son is talking about movies, Howard,” Peggy admonished, “Then you might know that it’s a movie about time travel with a character named Reese.”_

_Silence dropped over the line as Howard processed this information._

_“I’ll get us tickets.” He agreed._

_\--_

_Steve Rogers opened his eyes._

_\--_

_“We’re lucky you came out of the ice when you did.” Natasha spoke wearily from beside him as they stared at the numbers on the screen. The Chitauri invasion had left so many dead, even more missing. It would take years for the city to recover from this, if they ever did. “Those numbers would have been a hell of a lot higher without you.”_

_Steve frowned at her words, a terrible but incredible thought sparking in his mind._

_“Yeah,” He responded slowly, “Lucky.”_

_\--_

_Steve followed the others out to the carpark, somehow more exhausted by the charity gala than any mission he’d ever done._

_“Well, that could have gone better,” Natasha pointed out drily._

_“I don’t know why they’re surprised,” Tony argued, “We’re the Avengers. It’s not a career path that lends itself to the well-adjusted. We’re all of us broken.”_

_“Hey,” Steve looked up, the words echoing with a memory he’d almost forgotten, “What’s a glow stick?”_

_The others stopped to look at him in confusion._

_“Way to change the subject.” Clint nodded in appreciation._

_“It’s just, that reminded me of something someone said to me once that I didn’t understand.” Steve tried to explain himself._

_Natasha threw something at him suddenly and only his increased reactions let him snatch it out of the air before it collided with his face._

_“Where the hell were you carrying that?” Tony stared at her in shock, giving her form fitting dress the once over._

_“Gotta be prepared,” She shrugged._

_Steve turned the small plastic stick over in his hands._

_“You bend it until you hear a snap,” Clint explained, “Portable light source. Lasts for hours.”_

_Steve follow the instruction, watching as light spilled through the tube._

_“And when it goes out?” Steve asked, voice quiet._

_“Chuck it and get a new one.” Clint shrugged, moving away towards the car._

_Steve felt dread swoop through him, though the reason was long in the past. He tucked the glowing stick carefully into his pocket and followed the others._

_\--_

_Steve froze, staring up at the screen. He’d heard the song and even seen the video before, but it hadn’t really registered. It was just a part of the loud, chaotic background he was still trying to get used to._

_This time, though, he heard the words clearly, though they still didn’t make sense to him. He watched, entranced as the figures moved in sync with each other, continuing to sing “Oppan Gangnam Style”_

_It definitely wouldn’t have gone over well in 1940._

_\--_

_“Who was she?”_

_Steve froze, hand halfway to the light switch. He would know that voice anywhere. He continued his motion, flipping on the light and turning to face the room._

_Bucky sat on the bed, watching him. He’d been searching for him for months, chasing him all over the world and now here he was sitting in Steve’s hotel room._

_“Bucky,” Steve’s voice broke on the name that meant as much to him as his own, “You’re here.”_

_He took a step forward but froze again when Bucky recoiled from him._

_“I’m not.” Bucky shook his head jerkily, “I can’t stay. There’s still too much… my head is all… And you’re in here, a mission that I’m meant to finish. It’s… hard. I can’t keep it straight around you.”_

_“Oh.” Steve’s heart broke at the admission. That his mere presence made his best friend hurt._

_“But I need to know who she is, and you’re the only one who would know.” Bucky forced the words out, clearly practiced._

_“Okay.” Steve agreed quietly, desperate for anything he could do to help, not wanting to do anything that might push his friend further away. “Who is it you’re wanting to know about?”_

_“I don’t know.” Bucky answered, frustration bleeding through his words, “I don’t remember anything about her. I remember her voice, and her words. I remember_ remembering _them, replaying them in my head over and over, but I don’t remember_ her _.”_

_“What words?” Steve asked gently, forcing himself to keep his distance._

_“She says: ‘Steve will save you. No matter how bad it gets, hold onto that. Steve Rogers will save you.’” Bucky looked up at him, and Steve could see how he was struggling to keep himself together._

_“I don’t –” Steve shook his head and then broke off as understanding washed over him. “Oh. She told you that?”_

_If she’d told him that, then… had she known? Had she known even then that Bucky wouldn’t be lost forever? And if she had… if she had been planning for things this far into the future…_

_Just how much further ahead could she have been looking?_

_“We never knew her real name.” Steve told Bucky, mind drifting back to days that felt like a dream. “But we knew her best as Billie.”_

_\--_

The moment the ground beneath her felt solid again, Darcy threw her right hand over her head and pulled the trigger on the weapon Howard had given her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun writing these little bits and pieces. Some of them I wrote just for fun when I didn't think they'd make it into the story, then I wrote more when I decided to slide them in here.
> 
> The Terminator conversation goes out to Lilykep – not quite what you wanted but those are how the words came out on the day. It's the only thing I've added into the story from comments. Mostly because I've had the entire story in my head since long before you all started reading it and this chapter is one of the few places that there was space to fit something new.
> 
> Basically, any other similarities to things that have been suggested in comments are signs of your excellent deduction or my passable foreshadowing. 
> 
> What other little in between moments do people wish had been this chapter?


	25. Where it All Began

Jane stared at the space where her best friend had stood just a second before.

Now she was gone.

At this moment, Darcy Lewis didn’t exist at all.

Jane turned back to the equipment, going through the motions of taking the readings and running diagnostics to check what had happened.

“Well, no organic material appears to have been left behind,” Dr Robinson stepped into the circle that had been cleared for the experiment, peering around for any visible evidence that could be important, “That’s a good sign for their survival. In fact, there doesn’t appear to be anything left from within the range of the portal. The chalk line has blurred inward as we’d expect with the rush of air into the space where displaced mass had been.”

“All of the readings are within expected parameters,” Jane agreed, frowning as she stared at the numbers, “Though, the energy output was slightly higher than expected. It looks like the portal closing released a fair bit of energy.”

“But there’s no reason to think that would have affected the success of the transfer.” Robinson moved closer to lean over her shoulder. Jane’s skin itched at his proximity, but she held her ground. She had to do this for Darcy.

Darcy, who would absolutely be coming back. Who would somehow, Jane couldn’t begin to imagine how, bring a way to get them out of here back from the past with her.

Assuming she’d even gone to the past. Assuming Carrington didn’t kill her the second they landed.

Jane shut down those thoughts. The time for second guessing was over. She couldn’t help Darcy wherever she’d gone. She could only make sure the science was right to bring her back.

And she had to believe that Darcy could pull off her part.

“You’re right,” Jane said, “There’s nothing in these readings to change our calculations for the return portal. We can recalibrate the machines as we predicted.”

Setting aside the readings, she pulled up the list of numbers and settings that would need to be changed to bring Darcy back.

She moved through the motions of resetting the equipment in an odd hyper-focussed fog. Everything outside of the job she had to do felt like a blurry, distant cloud; the wires she shifted, the dials she turned, the numbers she typed seemed to take up her whole world.

She checked everything three times and even let Robinson check once – before checking again herself to be sure he hadn’t changed anything.

It was ready. As right as she could make it. As certain as it was possible to be with science that had never been tried before.

This was it. All or nothing. Either Darcy would come back, having defeated Carrington and found a way to get them both out of here, or…

Jane didn’t have any doubt how that sentence ended. She knew exactly how determined her best friend was, how stubborn.

Darcy would come back victorious, or she wouldn’t come back at all.

“Clear the circle,” Robinson gave the order and the guards and scientists shifted back to a relatively safe distance.

Jane ignored Robinson’s instructions as she typed in the final commands and paused, finger hovering over the final button.

She didn’t have a back-up plan.

Perhaps she should have made one at some point, come up with an alternative if this failed. She’d been too focussed on doing everything she could to make sure it wouldn’t fail, and only now did it hit her just how much of this was beyond her control.

She believed in Darcy, more than she believed in almost anyone these days. But once she’d passed through that portal, the variables involved skyrocketed. It was impossible to predict what Darcy might have found there, impossible to guess whether she could have possibly won.

If this didn’t work, then Jane had no fall-back option, no other ideas, no remaining hope.

Jane set her jaw and stabbed out to hit the button, activating the machine.

She turned to watch as the technology around her whirred into life. In the centre of the room, light sparked in the air, and a blinding, writhing hole appeared in space. It grew until it reached the full 4 metre diameter that she’d calculated so carefully. Then, in an instant, it blinked out of existence, as a form dropped from a small height into the middle of the floor.

Terror swept through Jane as she got a single glimpse of the figure. The image could have walked straight out of a history documentary. The intimidating uniform that Hydra had used to spark fear in people all over the world.

Before Jane could do more than take a single sharp, painful breath, the figure raised its hand, lifting a small device high into the air above them.

A sudden bright light and painful pressure on her ears sent Jane stumbling back a step, and when she blinked the spots out of her eyes she found the figure moving directly toward her through a sudden fog.

She raised her hands to try and push them back, striking out as best she could, when a quiet voice whispered in her ear.

“It’s me, Janey, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Jane froze, not quite believing what she was hearing. As she stilled, the hands she’d been shoving away pulled something over her head, covering her face.

“It’s okay, Janey,” the voice continued, pushing her down now, helping her slide to her knees and under a table, “It’s going to be okay.”

Jane wasn’t sure what was happening. She struggled to put together the words, the voice, the events. It wasn’t until she finally registered what had been shoved on her face that she figured it out.

It was a gas mask.

Because the room was full of gas.

Gas that was making the room spin, her thoughts blur.

Gas that was making everyone else, without the protection of a mask, drop to the floor.

It was Darcy, Jane explained to herself, putting into thoughts what her instincts had known the second she’d heard that voice.

Darcy had done it. Darcy had come back.

Darcy would save her.

Jane clung to the table leg next to her, trying to will the world to stop spinning, wondering how long this drug, whatever it was, would last.

She would have to trust that Darcy knew what she was doing, that she’d come back for Jane when it was safe, that she’d get them both out of here like she’d promised.

She closed her eyes, leaning her head against her knees, struggling to keep herself upright.

Her eyes flew open again as the gunshot echoed through the room.

\--

The gun dropped from Darcy’s numb fingers.

She swallowed back the urge to throw up, there wasn’t time for that now.

For a moment, she watched as the blood slid silently across the floor.

There had been no struggle this time. No fight, no cry, no clawing to hold onto life.

The gas had knocked out everyone in the room. Even Jane had gone down unsteadily from the few breaths she’d taken before Darcy got the mask on her.

And Darcy had moved through the cloud that put everyone else to sleep. She’d picked her way to the nearest guard. She’d taken their gun from their drooping hands. She’d stepped between the slumped figures until she’d found the one that mattered.

She’d aimed as Peggy had trained her, breathed in and released as her finger squeezed the trigger.

She’d had time to think about this. Years to consider every angle. Countless sleepless nights weighing up evils.

She hadn’t forgotten what had sent her on her journey. She couldn’t ignore the first thing that had set all of this in motion.

Robinson was smart enough to recreate Jane’s work. He didn’t need them to make another time machine. He could do this all again.

He could have done this all again.

Darcy had spent years wishing she’d been strong enough to kill a man on the first try.

Now, he wouldn’t be doing anything ever again.

Darcy turned, stumbling away from the blood, the horror of what she’d just done. She was still haunted by the two others she’d killed, decades ago and a handful of weeks. The one that she’d known so completely and the one that she hadn’t known at all.

They haunted her in different ways, and she knew this one would only add to that.

But figuring out how to live with this would be a problem for another day. Right now, she had to get Jane to safety.

She made her way back towards the table she’d stashed Jane under, stooping to steal a swipe card on her way past.

She found Jane trying to pull herself out from under the table, legs unsteady as she struggled to get them under her. Darcy reached out to help, feeling Jane flinch in surprise at her touch. When she saw who it was, Jane threw herself vaguely towards Darcy, clinging to her when Darcy caught her in her arms.

Darcy held just as tightly, trying to keep the tears from her eyes.

Jane was really here. _Darcy_ was really here, right back where she’d started.

She’d been so sure she wouldn’t make it back.

Swallowing back the emotions, Darcy forced herself to focus on the task at hand. They weren’t safe yet. The mission wasn’t over.

Just one more thing.

Then, maybe, she could finally stop.

Shoving all other thoughts from her head, Darcy slung Jane’s arm over her shoulder and helped her to the door. A simple swipe of the card she’d stolen, and they were out.

Darcy closed the door behind her again, making sure it was sealed and not leaking any gas into the hallway before she pulled off her own mask and turned to help Jane with hers.

“You… you did it.” Jane stared at Darcy, stumbling on her feet. With Darcy’s help, she slid down to sit on the floor. Jane frowned up at her, “Why are you spinning?”

Reaching into one of her many pockets, Darcy pulled out the small packet that Howard had given her.

“It’s just the gas, Jane.” Darcy explained slowly as she shook the single pill from the packet, “It had to be fast acting. This will counteract anything you inhaled.”

She helped Jane swallow the pill, eyes darting around the hallway.

“It’ll take a few minutes to work.” Darcy explained, nudging Jane up and dragging her across the hall to another doorway. The closet behind wasn’t much of a step up from the hallway, but at least it was a little more secure.

“Did I just take mystery drugs?” Jane asked, confused, struggling to keep up with what was happening in front of her. “Was that smart?”

“It’s okay, Jane,” Darcy settled her in the closet, pulling some boxes around so that Jane wouldn’t be visible from the doorway, “The mystery drugs are going to help you. Just stay here while they clear your head. I have to go take care of some things.”

With a glance back to make sure Jane was as hidden as she could be, Darcy ducked back out into the hallway. She took a steadying breath, settled the mask back over her face, and used the swipe card to re-enter the lab they’d just left.

The gas still lingered in the air, adding a misty quality to the room, but Darcy had spent enough time in there to know her way around.

She started with the whiteboards, scrubbing everything off them. Every scrap of paper was collected in a large bin; it took her two tries to get it to catch fire. While it burned, she moved on to the electronics.

After a few minutes to refamiliarize herself with 21st century technology, she had the computers wiped of data, the hard-drives smashed to pieces. She set about breaking down the machinery that had sent her back in time, using one of the larger pieces to scrape at the walls where Jane had scribbled notes and numbers.

Soon, there was nothing left in the room that held the secrets of time travel.

Nothing but her.

Checking to make sure the papers were all burning well but safely contained within the metal bin she’d put them in, Darcy returned to the door. She spared one last glance at the room that had haunted her thoughts for so long, then she left.

She found Jane where she’d left her, though considerably more alert. She was crouched now, instead of slumped, behind the boxes Darcy had shifted to shield her. She peered out around the corner when the door opened, relief clear on her face when she saw Darcy.

“Darcy,” Jane scrambled to her feet and surged forward to hug Darcy again, “You did it. I can’t believe it. You really –”

“How are you feeling?” Darcy asked, cutting her off. She gave in to a quick hug but disentangled herself after a few short seconds. They didn’t have time for this now.

“Still a little woozy,” Jane admitted, “But I can manage.”

“Good.” Darcy shoved the device Howard had given her into Jane’s hand, “You need to get out, move up. We know this level is shielded so no one can find us, so you need to take this and make your way to the surface.”

“What?” Jane shook her head in confusion, “What are you talking about? We’re sticking together.”

“We can’t.” Darcy shook her head, holding out a second swipe card that she’d collected while she was in the lab, “That device will bring help if we can get it past the shielded levels, and we need back up here. This place is too big for us to take on ourselves. Soon, others will come looking to see what happened with the experiments and they’ll realise we’ve escaped. It’s doubtful that we could get out of this place alone.”

“So, we find a place to lay low until help arrives.” Jane suggested, “We’re not splitting up now.”

“We have to,” Darcy reached out to grip Jane’s hand, needing her to understand the urgency, “Janey, I’ve had years to think about this. We can’t risk leaving any trace in their records that could let them try this again. I know they kept backups. I have to destroy them.”

“Okay, then we do that first and then go for help.” Jane argued, clinging to Darcy.

Darcy shook her head, “I have no idea how long it will take help to arrive once they pick up the signal. We need them on the way _now_. I’m sorry, Jane, but there are two jobs that need to be done here, and there’s only two of us. We have to split up.”

“Well, I…” Jane sighed in frustration, unable to argue with the logic, “Okay, then I should do the stay here job, and you should do the go for help job. They’re less likely to hurt me if they catch me running around down here, and you know what to do with this device thing to call for help.”

“No,” Darcy answered firmly, “You said it yourself, you’re still woozy from the gas. You wouldn’t be able to move as quickly, as quietly. The device doesn’t need anything. Just carry it somewhere unshielded and find somewhere to hide until help comes.”

“But what about you?” Jane asked, tearily.

Darcy shrugged, “Believe it or not, Janey, I’ve actually been trained in infiltrating Hydra bases. Once their records have been wiped, then I’ll come find you. Okay?”

“I don’t like this, Darcy.” Jane shook her head again, but Darcy could see she was still struggling to focus properly.

“I know, but you have to trust me. This is still my part, remember?” She smiled, thinking back so many years and a handful of days, “You did your job. You sent me there and brought me back. My job is to make sure they can’t do it again.”

“Darcy, I’m not –” Jane started, but Darcy cut her off.

“We don’t have time for this, Jane. The longer we stand here the more likely someone will realise what happened. This is the best option, and it will only get worse the longer we argue about it.” She sighed, pulling Jane into one last hug, “Please, just trust me and go.”

She pulled back, releasing Jane completely and stepping away.

Jane screwed up her face in annoyance and determination. “Fine. But if you die, I’ll kill you.”

“Right back at you,” Darcy agreed with a smile.

They took a moment to check the hallway was still clear before stepping out. Jane looked toward the right, where they knew the stairs led up to the higher levels. The best chance of getting a signal out would be if she could make it up to ground level.

Darcy turned to the left to head deeper into the base, where she’d seen Carrington and Robinson and others heading with pages of notes and portable hard-drives.

“Be careful,” Jane whispered to her one last time, and Darcy nodded silently in response.

Picking her way quietly down the hallway, Darcy kept a tight grip on her imagination. She didn’t need to think about all the ways Jane’s part of this could go wrong, how many stairs she might be able to climb in her dizzy state, how many enemies could stand in her way.

Just keep moving forward, one step at a time.

Until the mission was finally over.

One way or another.


	26. The Past Catches Up To You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are awesome. Yes, I know I keep leaving you in suspense. There's just too much that needs to happen! I have to break chapters somewhere.  
> I'm trying to pace posting these so that I don't leave you hanging for too long, but if you want to wait until the last chapters are out and read them all at once I wouldn't blame you.  
> There's so few chapters left! I don't know how to feel about that!

“But I made everybody custom armour,” Tony argued, “And completely redesigned the super-soldier gym. How can you say no to that?”

“You mentioned the gym already,” Steve sighed.

It was just the two of them left in the conference room now. Bucky had bowed out an hour ago when Tony had first started trying to convince them not to take a break from Avenging. Already frustrated by their lack of answers when he asked about Reese, Tony’s patience was thin.

Steve couldn’t blame him, not with the way secrets had caused them all so much pain already. But this was a secret that went back before Howard or super-serum. They’d made promises to someone long gone, and they couldn’t break that now.

Reese was a secret that they just couldn’t tell.

“Tony,” Steve leaned forward to try reasoning with him again, “I appreciate everything you’ve done here. Really, I do. And I’m not saying we won’t be back. But we need some time away from all of this.”

“You just got back!” Tony pointed out.

“Away from the fighting. Away from missions.” Steve rephrased, “The past years have been… beyond chaotic. We need some time to remember how to just be… human.”

“I manage to be just human without abandoning the team we haven’t even gotten back yet.” Tony grumbled.

Steve looked at the man who had been his friend, who hopefully could be again, “Tony, look around you. You built a whole complex. You made custom armour and redesigned gyms. You have a company that’s leading the world. You and Pepper seem to be doing better than ever. You have a whole life outside of the suit. I never really figured that part out.”

“What, you need a girlfriend?” Tony asked rolling his eyes, “I’m sure Romanoff has a list lined up.”

“It’s not about that.” Steve shook his head. “We just need… _I_ just need time.”

“So, that’s it?” Tony seemed resigned now, disappointed, “You came back just to say goodbye.”

“What happened last year was bad, Tony,” Steve sighed wearily, “I think we can both agree about that. Things spiralled out of control so quickly, and if we’d just had the time, if we’d just _taken_ the time, to talk things out properly, then maybe it wouldn’t have fallen out the way it did.

“There used to be a time when I knew how to stop and assess a situation before rushing into a fight. We spent months sometimes pulling together information before we’d even consider attacking the Hydra bases back in the war. But I lost that somewhere over the years. I stopped listening to others when they disagreed with me, I started believing that I could handle any fight and that any consequences would be worth it.”

He stood to pace towards the window.

“I don’t agree with the Accords. It wasn’t a good set up, the wording was concerning at best. And after everything with SHIELD and HYDRA… I don’t think that I can trust any kind of government that completely again. But I’m not sure I trust myself completely these days either.” He turned back to Tony, “I’ve lost touch with what we’re fighting for. I’ve had to stare at the big picture for so many years, I think I’ve forgotten what it was to be the little guy, to be powerless.

“Taking a break was Bucky’s idea; he needs time to figure out who he could be. But I’m not doing it for him, I’m doing it for me. I need to remember how to be normal, otherwise, what right do I have to think I know what normal people need?”

“And there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?” Tony asked, but he seemed more understanding at least.

 “It’s not forever.” Steve pointed out, “Six months will be over before you know it. Besides, it’s not like we’re going into hiding. We can still visit.”

“Are you sure –” Tony began, but broke off as FRIDAY interrupted him.

“Boss, SI systems appear to be under some kind of attack. All non-critical systems have stopped working and attempts to restart them are getting the same message repeatedly.”

The screen on the wall flickered on to show a short list of words.

“I have been unable to track the origin or purpose of the attack,” FRIDAY announced, “But this appears to have been written into the base code for Stark Industries systems for as long as my records exist.”

“What is it?” Steve asked striding forward at the same time Tony did to move closer to the screen, “Some kind of ransomeware?”

“No,” Tony was staring at the screen with shock, and no small amount of wonder, “It’s my dad.”

Steve frowned at him in confusion. “Your dad? How? Why?”

“No idea,” Tony shook his head, shifting to the computer to manually pull up the source of the code, “It’s definitely internal. But everything’s been locked down behind a password. No way to tell what the purpose is or why it’s cropped up now without the password. But is it smart to enter the password without knowing what will happen?” He seemed to be talking more to himself than Steve.

“What makes you think it’s from your dad?” Steve asked.

“The words,” Tony gestured at the screen, “Dad used to repeat them to me all the time. Told me it was a puzzle, a riddle, that the day I worked out what it meant I’d get the greatest prize ever. I spent years working on it. I had JARVIS spend years working on it. I couldn’t find any pattern or meaning. Total gibberish. Figured he was playing the long prank.”

“You don’t know the password then?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, I do.” Tony hesitated and then shrugged and began typing, “Because that’s not the whole thing.”

Tony stepped back from the computer after hitting the final key and they watched together as the screen went dark for a moment before a progress bar appeared.

“So, whatever this is,” Steve noted, “He made sure you were the only one who could access it.”

The progress bar disappeared as it reached the end and was replaced with a familiar set of numbers and a name.

“Coordinates.” Steve said, curious.

“Jane Foster?” Tony stared at the name nonplussed, “How the hell would Dad know the name Jane Foster?”

“All systems have returned to normal functionality, Boss,” FRIDAY spoke up, “I’m running diagnostics now, but can confirm that the source of this glitch and the coordinates on the screen now appear to be coming from the old Stark Mansion. It is not coming from any machine listed on my inventory.”

“Foster is Thor’s ex, right?” Steve asked, “I never met her.”

“Right,” Tony nodded, “And she and her assistant were kidnapped almost two months ago. We’ve had no leads on where they were taken. Best guess is Hydra, but there are a few contenders. Anybody might want to get their hands on Foster’s research. All sorts of bad guys would love to be able to open doors through space. But that doesn’t explain how Dad would know her name, let alone a location.”

Steve felt a cold wave wash over him as a thought occurred.

“Jane.” It was a name he’d heard before, “The assistant, what’s their name?”

“Darcy Lewis,” Tony answered promptly, “Been with Foster since Thor first landed.”

_Darcy Lewis_. The name echoed through his head. His voice was choked as he managed to ask, “Do you have a picture?”

Tony gave him an odd look but didn’t ask. “FRIDAY.”

The coordinates on the screen dropped to the bottom as a face appeared in the middle.

Steve fumbled for something to hold onto, the chair he latched onto creaking under his fingers.

She was so young. Smiling in a way he’d never really seen. Carefree, happy.

“I take it you’ve met,” Tony went back to the computer and quickly a map took centre stage on the screen, “There’s something at those coordinates, but without knowing where the hell they came from it could just as easily be a trap.”

“They’re right.” Steve said, no doubt in his mind, “Your dad would have made sure they were right.”

“And how the hell would Dad have known them?” Tony asked impatiently, glancing back over his shoulder.

“Because Hydra didn’t take Dr Foster because they wanted to travel through space, Tony,” Steve met his gaze as so many things clicked into place in his own mind, “They took her because they wanted to travel through time.”

Tony stopped completely, turning slowly to face Steve properly.

“You’re serious.” He spoke with disbelief. “You’re telling me you think Hydra was trying to build a time machine?”

“Tony,” Steve met his gaze, and pointed at the face still visible at the side of the screen, “ _That’s_ Reese.”

Tony froze, eyes wide, jaw slack in shock. Steve could see a thousand thoughts and ideas flood through his mind. After a moment, a certainty filled his face and his jaw clicked shut.

“There is a hell of a lot of story there that I definitely want to hear,” He pointed at Steve with a glare, “But it seems we’ve got a rescue mission to put together, so it’ll have to wait.”

Steve smiled and nodded, “Agreed. So, where did you put that custom armour you made me?”

Tony turned back to the screen with a wave of his hand, “FRIDAY, show the man the way.”

Lights lit up along the base boards and Steve made his way to the doorway where he could see them continuing down the hallway to the left.

“FRIDAY, can you ask Bucky to meet me there?” Steve asked as he followed the lights.

Behind him, Tony started giving his own orders. “Prep the suit and the quinjet. And move a better satellite into position, I want a clearer view of what we’re heading into.”

The lights led Steve to a spacious room with seemingly smooth walls. When he entered, however, a wide panel slid out from the wall, revealing a new version of the Captain America suit.

And his shield.

He reached out to graze his fingers over it for a moment before shaking off the memories and starting to pull on the armour.

“FRIDAY, is there somewhere I can access Darcy Lewis’ file?” He asked as he stripped off his normal boots.

A light inside the open cabinet flickered on, revealing a tablet plugged in on one of the shelves. When he reached up to bring it down, he found her face staring back at him.

Darcy Lewis.

It was his turn to save her.

He was dressed and fastening the final straps when Bucky walked in.

“What the hell, Steve?” He stopped in the doorway, staring at Steve in disbelief.

“Bucky –” Steve stared, but his friend cut him off.

“Seriously?” He stepped forward, frustrated, “I knew you’d struggle with six months, but it hasn’t even been six hours!”

“This is important, Bucky.” Steve tried to explain.

“It’s always important!” Bucky argued, “You can’t make exceptions out of every single thing.”

Instead of answering, Steve snatched the tablet off the shelf and handed it to Bucky.

Bucky stared down at the familiar face, the large red _MISSING_. For a minute, he was silent, then he looked back up at Steve.

“So, which of these lockers is mine?” He asked.

Across the room, another panel slid silently out of the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OF COURSE THEY'RE NOT GOING TO LEAVE HER THERE!  
> Anyway, I imagine Howard constantly tinkering with how to deliver that message at just the right time. Upgrading it with new technologies that came along, inventing new technologies because of ideas for how to deliver it. And yes, I think he'd have found it funny to give his kid a supposed riddle that was just gibberish for him to memorise.


	27. Not Waiting to be Rescued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: If you thought the last chapters were stressful, you might want to wait until the next chapter is up to read this one.  
> This is the chapter where I hated myself for writing a story that required action. Writing action is hard, guys. I found ways to minimise it as much as I could, and still there were gaps in this chapter that were just _add action here_ until the last moment.

They planned on the way, not willing to waste time gathering information when it would take them too long to fly there anyway.

Rhodey flew the quinjet while Tony and Vision, with the help of FRIDAY, pulled information from every possible source to lay out the details for Steve and Bucky to plan the assault.

Steve wished the rest of the team was there. They could certainly use Natasha for this, and Wanda. Any extra hands would be useful.

But they’d agreed to wait and see how Steve and Bucky were received before coming out of hiding.

They couldn’t have guessed something like this would crop up so quickly.

“The unknown’s the issue,” Bucky frowned at the attack plan they’d drawn up. “We can get in easy enough, but if we can’t tell how deep the base goes, then we can’t be sure what we’re walking into.”

“But we’ll walk into it anyway,” Tony agreed, sliding the mask over his face, ready for the action. “FRIDAY, can you pinpoint the location that energy signal is coming from? Odds are, that’s the distress beacon, so that’s where we’ll find Foster and/or Lewis.”

A new light appeared on the map in front of them, and Steve shifted some of their attack points to better align with that target.

“We’ll get her out.” Bucky assured him, reading his nerves in a way so few people could, “We owe her that.”

“Who exactly was she to you?” Tony asked curiously, “And what did she do that needed forgiving?”

“I promised you that story,” Steve shook off the questions and doubts, “But it has to wait until after.”

They hit hard and fast. With the element of surprise on their side, it didn’t take long to force their way into the ground level of the base. The lower levels, they knew, would be harder.

The guards on the base scrambled to the defence, falling back quickly when it became clear that they’d lost the ground floor.

Instead, they retreated to the stairwell, dropping a solid blast door at the top of the stairs.

“Guessing we’re gonna need a new plan to get through that.” Tony sighed, casually blasting aside one of the stragglers who’d been left on the wrong side.

“That signal’s on this level,” Rhodey pointed out, “Maybe if we start there we can find out more about what we’re walking in to.”

Vision turned to float down a side hallway, leading them through some kind of office to a closed door. He stopped, hovering in front of it, and announced, “The energy signal is behind this door.”

“Well, then,” Tony stepped forward, “Let’s see what all this fuss is about.”

He pulled open the door without fanfare, stepping back in surprise as a keyboard flew towards his face and broke across the metal of the suit.

“Foster,” He raised his mask to look at the woman standing in the closet, “Nice to see you again. Glad you couldn’t find a better weapon.”

“Oops,” Jane cringed, “Sorry.”

She glanced past him, eyes going wide at the sight of the team behind him.

“Wow, when she said help would come, I really didn’t expect this.” She focussed suddenly on the unmistakable Captain America costume, “Aren’t you fugitives?”

“Not anymore.” Steve moved forward, “Dr Foster, where is Darcy?”

\--

Darcy peered around the corner, ducking back quickly at the sight of four guards coming her way.

She’d been lucky so far. The swipe card she’d stolen had opened every door she’d tried, and most of the base seemed scarcely occupied.

She’d picked up a change of outfit in one of the first rooms she’d found, trading out one, outdated, Hydra uniform for another. The uniform jacket she wore now had let her bullshit her way past the few scientists that she’d come across so far, but she doubted it would help with four guards. Not four guards who were clearly on the alert for something out of place.

They’d realised something was wrong. She’d hoped some sort of loud alarm would sound when they noticed she and Jane were missing, so that she’d know when to switch from stealth to defence. Apparently, they were too smart for that.

Running her hands over the utility belt she’d picked up, she took stock. Luckily, she’d stumbled across some kind of armoury before the whole place went on the alert. It seemed Hydra wasn’t concerned about theft by their own, since the swipe card she held had opened every lock in the room.

Maybe she’d just picked well when stealing swipe cards.

She had a gun, some extra ammunition, and a couple of grenades. When raiding the supplies, she’d been thinking more about destroying tech and records than trying to fight past teams of people. She’d taken the grenades thinking she could blow up a server room or two if she didn’t have time to hack in and erase data properly.

It wouldn’t be as certain, that way. It was better if she could get in and check each computer for back-ups, connections to the cloud, hidden files.

She’d found six computers so far; four hadn’t had any signs of Jane’s work on them at all and the other two didn’t seem to be connected to a network. She hoped that meant that Hydra was also wary of what Jane’s research could do in the wrong hands, but she couldn’t rely on that.

With armed guards pacing her way, she was probably out of time to check properly.

Her fingers lingered on the grenade on her belt.

She’d just have to burn it all and hope that caught everything.

Looking around the hallway she was in, she considered her options. She could hear the guards moving steadily up the hallway around the corner, working together to check each room before moving on. That meant the three doors leading off of her hallway wouldn’t help her much.

Maybe she could get past them. She wasn’t really prepared for a gun fight, she remembered too well how the last gunfight she’d been a part of went down, but she couldn’t think of a better option.

Her only chance was to catch them when they were more spread out.

She slipped quietly back up the hallway she’d just come down, easing open the door closest to the corner and slipping into the room she’d already checked.

She left the door open behind her, keeping her eyes locked on the other door, the one in the wall to her right. The one that had to open into the hallway the guards were currently checking.

Carefully, she pulled her gun and moved through the motions of preparing it. It was a modern gun, unlike any of the ones she’d been trained on, but she’d taken the time to check how it worked before she’d put any bullets in it, and she was pretty sure she was doing it right.

She took a quick second to assess the room, trying to decide the best place to position herself. Before she could decide, though, the door handle across from her moved.

With no time to find a better spot, Darcy set her feet and raised the gun.

She fired as the door opened, and the person stepping through was forced back before Darcy could even register much about them beyond the gun in their hand and the body armour that took her bullet.

She tried to aim for arms and faces as the guards peered around the edges of the doorframe, pointing their own weapons her way, but they were well trained and knew how to protect themselves.

Darcy felt herself falling before she even registered the pain in her leg. She looked down, registering the blood without really understanding. Then the pain hit her in force just before she hit the ground.

She’d been shot.

Funny, she’d made it through an entire war without getting too close to a bullet. Now there was one in her leg.

Or had it gone all the way through and out the other side?

It must have only been a fraction of a second, but it felt like it could have been hours before she realised she was lying there, staring at her own leg, while the guards continued to approach with their weapons drawn.

She tried to push herself up again, but her leg screamed that upright was not an option.

Instead, she rolled sideways, sheltering behind a desk.

Her heart pounded, adrenaline flooding her system. She could see it, could see how fast the blood was being pumped out of her by her overeager heart.

Pressure, she reminded herself, dropping the gun that she’d somehow held onto to pull off her jacket and wrap it around the wound. Her hands shook as she tied it off as best she could.

“Darcy,” A vaguely familiar voice called to her, “We don’t want to hurt you any more. Let us help you instead. Push the gun out to the side where we can see it.”

Darcy let out a shaky, desperate laugh, “Why the fuck would I trust you?”

“We want to help you, Darcy,” The voice came again, calm and understanding in a decidedly calculated way, “I helped you yesterday, didn’t I? I slipped you that extra power bar. I’ve been helping you all along. Let me help you now.”

Recognition hit Darcy as the memories came back. The one guard who had tried so hard to make her think of him as the nice one. He hadn’t fooled her at the time; he’d always followed up the kind actions with gently probing questions.

“Are you trying to Stockholm Syndrome me?” She asked with a laugh, “News flash, dude, that may have been yesterday to you, but it’s been five fucking years for me. I don’t even remember your name.”

She heard the scuff of a foot nearby. They were closing in. She was surrounded. She couldn’t stand. She couldn’t fight. She couldn’t see any way out.

Her fingers trembled briefly as she reached to her belt again, but she swallowed back her fear and forced her hands to be still, steady.

Time, that was what she needed. She just needed time to think. Then she’d be able to see a better option. She just needed them to take a step back and give her some time.

Without giving herself time to think too hard, she yanked the grenade from her belt, holding the lever down tightly with her right hand and pulling the ring free with her left.

She raised both hands slowly above the edge of the table, so they could see what she held.

A sharp inhale told her at least one person had gotten the message.

“Hold fire.” The order shot sharply through the room.

Darcy eased herself carefully up, resting her weight on her left hand, still holding the ring, and her uninjured right leg. She pushed herself over until she could ease around the edge of the desk to see them, still holding the grenade up over her head.

She was, in fact, surrounded. There were four guns pointing at her, in hands much steadier than her own.

Her mind shot down a dozen different possibilities, but none that could help.

“Darcy,” It was the self-appointed Nice Guard again, clearly having set himself as spokesperson, “Come on, now. Put the pin back in there. That’s not going to help anyone.”

“It’s a small room,” She countered, voice trembling, eyes darting, “But the door closest to you is locked. You’d have to get your swipe cards out before you could open it. What are the chances any of you will survive if I drop this?”

“It would kill you, too.” Another guard pointed out. Darcy liked her better. There wasn’t the same false attempt at niceties in this guard’s voice. Just straight to the point.

Darcy looked around at them, searching for an alternative, wondering just how long she could stall for time this way. She caught the way the guard on the right shifted. Not long, she decided. They would make a move soon.

“Just let us help you,” Nice Guard tried again, “You know you can’t get out of this.”

She closed her eyes, considering.

For years, she’d had a clear list of things she needed to do. Protect the future – done. Save Jane – done. Destroy Hydra’s ability to try this again – half done.

She let her hand, still clutching the grenade lower slowly back to her side.

She was all out of ideas for how to get past this, all out of ways to finish that last task.

She opened her eyes, meeting the gaze of the Mr. Nice Guard.

“You’re right.” She said calmly and, with a casual gesture, tossed the grenade towards them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know! I'm sorry! I'll get the next chapter out as soon as I can tomorrow.


	28. The Right Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I had a super stressful annoying day and now I'm in a monster grumpy mood. But I promised to post this as soon as I could, and since my bad day is not your fault I won't take it out on you.
> 
> Hopefully this all makes sense. I don't have the energy to re-read it to check so I'm just trusting my past-self knew what I was doing.
> 
> Now I'm going to go order pizza and binge watch something stupid.

With the details Jane could provide about the layout of the base beyond the blast doors, it didn’t take long to get them open.

Vision phased through the floor and came up the stairs the other way. He didn’t even need to attack; the way he moved steadily forward, unstoppable as he let everything they threw at him simply pass through him harmlessly, had the soldiers scrambling for something they could do.

All it took was one of them to decide, in a panic, that the only chance for escape was through the door they’d just closed.

The rest of the Avengers were ready and waiting, moving forward as soon as the doors reopened.

It was a brief fight, and soon the stairwell was in their control.

“Alright,” Steve glanced around the lower level once they’d made their way down the stairs. Without thinking, he fell into Captain-mode, mind ticking through the best options and strategies. “Tony, you’re on tech; Foster says all of the data in this place needs to be destroyed and any offsite back-ups located and wiped as well. Vision, Rhodey, hold the exit and protect Foster. As we move deeper into the base, stragglers will likely start moving back this way. Keep the way clear. Bucky and I will extract Lewis.”

He turned back to look at the others and realised in the heavy silence that it had been over a year since these people had followed his orders. He should have thought of that before this, should have considered whether they might take issue with following his orders. With two of the party masked by unmoving metal, and the third still learning about expressing emotions, it was hard to get a read on the meaning of the silence.

“Nice to have you back, Cap.” Rhodey spoke up, and Steve could hear in his voice the smile that his mask hid.

“Solid plan,” Tony admitted more grudgingly, “Find me one of their computers, I’ll take care of it.”

In the end, it was only Jane who had an issue with the plan, not liking that she was being relegated to damsel-in-distress mode. It was only the argument that Steve and Bucky, with their serum enhanced systems, would be able to get to Darcy faster alone that convinced her to let them go without her.

Bucky and Steve didn’t need to speak as they moved quickly deeper into the base. They left Tony behind on the second level to hack into the Hydra systems while they made their way lower.

They fell into patterns they’d built over a lifetime of fighting together. No hand gestures or words were needed for them to know where the other would move next. With cold efficiency, they fought their way to the next staircase downward, moving closer and closer to their target.

On the 5th level down, they took more care. This was the floor Jane had told them they’d most likely find Darcy; the level that they’d spent most of their time in captivity.

They moved silently towards the indistinct voices that they could hear drifting through the hallways. When it was only the two of them, they could move into almost any situation and trust that they could fight their way out of it. The added need to protect a civilian required more caution.

The distant voices resolved suddenly into terrifying words as they heard an unfamiliar person say harshly, “It would kill you, too.”

They spared one glance at each other and, seeing the same thought in the other’s eyes, broke into a run.

Steve registered the other words that drifted to them as he barrelled around a corner, but he didn’t pause to take in their meaning. He could see the open door ahead on him now where the voices were coming from. He was just a few steps away when the voice he hadn’t heard in years but would recognise anywhere rang through the hallway.

“You’re right,” He heard her say, and from somewhere he found a new burst of speed, flying through the doorway in time to see the grenade slip from her fingers to roll across the floor towards the guards surrounding her.

He leapt the length of the desk she was leaning against to land in front of her, bracing his shield between her and the explosive.

He felt the pressure of the blast against the shield, the heat licking around the edges, but he held firm, holding back the chaos she’d unleashed.

The moment the explosion faded, he was moving. He could see two guards who had managed to get themselves to shelter before the grenade went off. Trusting that Bucky would be coming through the door now that the blast was over, Steve headed for the furthest one.

A quick blow from his shield knocked the already stunned and injured guard out, and he turned back to see Bucky dealing equally efficiently with the other.

Shouts came from deeper in the base. Steve glanced at the door he was now closest to, where the voices seemed to be coming from. He looked back to find Bucky raising an eyebrow at him. Steve nodded in agreement.

As Bucky strode to the door and pulled it open with a sharp wrench that broke the lock, Steve moved back toward Darcy.

She was on the floor where he’d left her, leaning heavily against the desk and he could hear soft sobs coming from her.

She looked up at him as he approached, and he caught a whirl-wind of emotions in her eyes before she closed them again, tears streaming down her face.

It was really her.

When he’d first found himself in the future, he’d thought about her often. Particularly once it became clear that she was, in fact, from at least this far in the future. He’d wondered where she might be, when she might be born, what might push her onto the path that would lead her to him.

He’d thought about trying to find her, trying to save her, trying to stop all of this before it happened.

And he’d known, in those moments, why she’d been so insistent that he never know her name. Because if he’d been able to find her, if he’d had any clues that might actually lead him here before this moment, he’d have risked the changes to the past to try and save her from what the journey would do to her.

He wouldn’t have been able to sit back and wait for something terrible to happen to someone he cared about. Even if it _needed_ to happen. No matter how many lives it might save.

He simply wasn’t as strong as she was.

Pulling himself back into the moment, Steve raked his eyes over her, taking in the blood soaked cloth tied around her left leg.

He crouched down, reaching out gently to inspect the wound on her leg. The bleeding had slowed enough to get her out of here, but they would need to move quickly.

“Can you walk?” He asked, looking up to try and catch her eye.

She met his gaze for a tiny fraction of a second before looking away again, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered, “I tried, I’m so sorry.”

He straightened, turning and raising his shield at a sound by the door, relaxing again as Bucky walked through.

“Floor’s clear,” He reported efficiently, “But there’s a hidden stair going back up again. They’ll be waiting for us on the way back.”

Steve nodded in acknowledgement. “You take point, I’ll carry her out.”

Bucky agreed silently, signalling his agreement simply by moving into position by the door closest to their way out. He peered out to ensure the way was still clear, nodding at Steve that it was.

Steve dropped to his knees beside Darcy but hesitated when she flinched back.

“You shouldn’t have to help me.” She whispered in a voice he barely recognised as hers, “After everything I did, you shouldn’t even have to _touch_ me.”

Steve frowned. This person was so different from the one he remembered. He’d seen her in all sorts of terrible situations. He’d thought he’d seen her at her worst, but even when she’d broken down in front of him before, there had always been some solid, unshakeable certainty holding her together, giving her the foundation to claw her way back to that steady, though never happy, calm that had carried her through so much.

That seemed to have deserted her now.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered again, glancing up at him with guilt and regret and agony in her eyes before glancing away quickly, like she couldn’t bear to look at him, “I’m so sorry.”

Steve hesitated, but then huffed out an exasperated sigh. They didn’t have time to get into this now. They were in enemy territory with unknown forces between them and safety. They needed to get out.

Ignoring her response, he scooped her into his arms, keeping his shield strapped to his arm so that it curved around her.

“It’s going to be okay, princess,” He told her quietly, his voice dropping into the slow calming tones that he’d used the first day she’d landed in his life, when she was just a stranger having a panic attack in an alley. “Once we get out of here, we’ll figure the rest out. It’s going to be okay.”

He caught the questioning glance Bucky shot his way and knew his friend had caught her words. He gave a tiny shrug in response. He didn’t know what had happened since he’d seen her last that had so broken her.

In well-practiced silence, he and Bucky made their way back through the levels they’d fought their way down. The two floors above them were quiet, empty of Hydra stragglers.

On the last floor below the exit, which Steve trusted the team were still holding firmly, they ran into the guards who had escaped. They were facing away, towards the exit, distracted by Iron Man who was holding the stairwell on his own.

Steve dropped back as Bucky surged into the soldiers blocking their path. He kept a close eye on Bucky’s motions, ready to step in if he needed help, but Steve’s job here was to protect Darcy. He knew Bucky could handle the job of clearing the way.

As he shifted his grip slightly to angle his shield to cover Darcy better, Steve caught her voice, murmuring at something even lower than a whisper.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed repeatedly into his armoured shoulder, “I’m so sorry.”

Steve spared a glance back at Bucky, confirming that he had everything under control, before stepping back to duck behind a wall out of the firing line. He dropped to a knee, letting Darcy’s weight rest on his raised leg so that he could make enough space between them to see her face.

She was crying. Silently crying. She probably had been for a while.

It occurred to him, and he berated himself for not realising it sooner, that he probably did know what had happened that had caused her so much pain. He’d forgotten, somehow, what time travel really meant. It had been years since he’d seen her, and a part of him had assumed that was true for her, too.

But it probably wasn’t.

How long it had been since she’d last seen him? How long since she’d heard him over the radio?

How long since he’d blamed her for all the things he hadn’t understood?

“Hey,” He loosened one hand to turn her face towards him. When he had her attention, he gestured with his chin around the corner where Bucky was taking down the last Hydra soldiers, “Did you know?”

She glanced over, catching a glimpse of light reflecting off that metal arm as it swung out. A tiny sob escaped her as she answered.

“Yes, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so –”

Steve interrupted her, “Thank you.”

She blinked at him in shock.

“You – What?” She frowned, shaking her head in complete confusion.

“Thank you,” He told her again, firmly and certainly.

“I… What does that mean?” She asked, bewildered. “How can you say that?”

“Because it wasn’t yesterday for me,” He told her gently, “I know the future now, and I know how many things you were trying to protect. So, thank you. If you’d tried to change anything, then we wouldn’t all be here right now. And I am incredibly grateful for that.”

“But,” She shook her head at him, unable to accept what he was saying, “But I _knew_. I knew what they would do to him. And I just let it happen.”

“No, you didn’t,” Bucky spoke gruffly from behind her, and she looked up at him in surprise, “You told me what you could.”

“I – I didn’t tell you anything.” Darcy argued, “I could have warned you; I could have saved you.”

Bucky crouched down to her level, looking her in the eye so seriously that she didn’t dare look away, “Do you know the first thing I remembered on my own? Steve told me my name, and the history books told me the facts, but for the first weeks, months even, those things just confused me more. I couldn’t tell what were memories and what were ideas built from pictures I’d seen. But there was one thing that I could hold onto through that. Do you know what that was?”

Darcy gave an unsteady shake of her head when he waited for her to respond.

“There were words, in my head, that weren’t in any books or movies or exhibits. Words that hadn’t been mentioned by anyone else. Words that I remembered, on my own, without external help. I remembered them before I remembered what they meant, but I knew that they meant a lot.” He smiled at her, reaching out to grasp her hand, “You told me Steve would save me. And I never really forgot that, not for long.”

“Oh,” Darcy swallowed audibly.

“Come on,” Bucky pushed himself upright, “The stairs are clear and you’ve lost enough blood. Let’s get out of here.”

Steve stood up as well, still holding Darcy close in his arms.

“You promised me that we could talk after, if I wanted to.” He reminded her quietly, following Bucky to the last stairs that would carry them out of the building, “Well, I definitely want to. We’ll have plenty of time to talk, Darcy. I promise.”

She let out a sudden, watery laugh at his words and he spared a glance down to find her looking at him with something close to wonder.

He raised a brow at her in question, trusting that she still knew him well enough to understand that without words.

She shook her head at him, and a wobbly smile crossed her face, “You said my name.”

Steve grinned, “Never going to stop saying it, princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I probably had things I was going to say here, but with my extra grumpy mood I don't think I have anything good to offer today.


	29. Making Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still got those tissues handy?

Darcy was sitting by the window pretending to knit when the knock came at the door. In reality, she’d lost count of the stitches half an hour ago and was just sitting now, staring out at the damp, empty grounds of the Avenger’s compound, trying to see the trees and the rain that were right in front of her rather than the blood and death that she’d left seven decades behind.

She didn’t react to the knock, though she heard it. She just kept staring outward as she heard steps moving through the apartment and the latch clicking as the door opened.

Steve’s voice drifted around the corner, and she blinked and twitched when she heard what he said.

“Tony,” She put her knitting aside when she heard Steve’s sigh, shifting slowly to her feet, “It hasn't even been two weeks. Can’t you give her some more time before you do this?”

“No,” Tony responded promptly, “Some things don’t get better from waiting. Sometimes you just have to get shit over with.”

“It’s okay, Steve,” Darcy stepped around the corner and found Steve standing at the doorway. He turned to point a questioning expression in her direction, “Give us a minute. I can handle it; I’m not a teacup remember?”

Steve looked back at Tony, turmoil in his eyes. Then he dropped his head with a sigh. When he looked back up at Darcy his gaze was resigned but understanding. He walked over to her and placed his hands gently around the sides of her face, tilting her eyes up to meet his fierce gaze.

“You’re not a glow stick, either,” He said firmly, “Not something to be used once and then tossed aside when it’s job is done. You’re a human. And you know the great thing about being a living being and not an inanimate object?”

He paused searching her gaze, and Darcy stared back, feeling like somehow his words and voice were the only things anchoring her here. Like they had so many times in the past. She gave a tiny, barely discernible shake of her head and his eyes softened.

“When we break, we can heal.” He leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. “If you need me, you know you just need to call.”

He slid his hands down to squeeze her shoulders once and then released her to make his way to the door. He reached out to grip Tony’s shoulder briefly, too, on his way past. And then he was gone, closing the door behind him, leaving her with the man she barely knew and felt so responsible for.

She reached up to wipe at her eyes, pushing back the tears that gathered. They hadn’t even said a word to each other, and she already felt like she’d been kicked right in the emotions.

Tony fidgeted across the room from her, opening his mouth to speak twice but shaking his head both times without starting.

Darcy knew she should speak, probably she should apologise. She’d gotten his father killed, had gotten him kidnapped and tortured. She’d caused him so much pain.

But she didn’t have the words left in her. There were too many things she regretted, so many pains she’d caused. She barely knew how to breath under the weight of it all, let alone speak.

“Tony,” She tried, voice warbling, “I – I don’t know what to say –”

“Don’t,” He cut her off suddenly, gesturing for her to stop, to wait. He paused and then shook his head. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a worn, faded, painfully familiar envelope.

They both stared at it for a moment, silent.

“How -?” Darcy began but couldn’t voice the whole question. She didn’t need to.

“Dad kept it.” He told her, holding it out in offering, “Hid it with a few other things and a letter of his own inside the machine he built to track your return. He never read it.”

Darcy reached out with a trembling hand, her mind playing in vivid colour the last time she’d seen that envelope, the things that had been said.

“Oh,” was all she managed to say, voice astoundingly even. She ran her fingers over the edges, over the stains that hadn’t been there the last time she saw it. There were fingerprints, oils stains, probably whiskey stains. She imagined Howard taking it out and staring at it, turning it over and putting it back.

“I did.” Tony’s voice pulled her back to the present. It took her a moment to remember what he’d said before, what he meant, but when it clicked, she looked up at him sharply.

“Tony,” She could only imagine what he must be feeling now, “I’m so –”

“Don’t.” He cut her off again, “Has anyone told you about my Dad’s last words?”

Darcy frowned, thrown by the segue, “Um… no?”

“FRIDAY,” Tony gestured and a familiar voice suddenly erupted around them.

_Sergeant Barnes? That’s not –_

Darcy choked back a sob at sound. She knew what this must be. She’d known there was a video, she’d never wanted to see it. She closed her eyes, like it could block out the sound. But her friend’s voice kept going.

_Wait! Tell Reese I forgive her._

Darcy took a sharp breath, eyes flying open in shock. She found Tony watching her, eyes dark with pain and grief and horrifying understanding.

Tears spilled over her eyes and Darcy raised a shaking hand to her mouth, like she could just hold the agony in. Silence rang through the apartment. The recording had stopped. She knew there had to be more, worse, and she was infinitely grateful that he wasn’t making her listen to the rest, hadn’t made her watch any of it. But what was playing in her imagination was just as bad, maybe worse.

She looked up at Tony through her tears, she didn’t have any words for the storm of horror and pain and gratitude and grief rolling through her. And she knew if she’d had the words, she wouldn’t have been able to speak them. If she opened her mouth now, all that would escape would be sobs. She was barely holding them back as it was.

Tony nodded slowly at her, tears in his own eyes, watching her like he could see the depths of her soul, could see the abyss inside her.

“I forgive you, too.” He told her, though his voice broke on the statement.

The proclamation shocked her so much her tears and sobs froze for a moment.

“What?” She choked out, beyond confused, “You – how could you possibly? None of this is even close to okay.”

“I never said it was okay.” Tony told her, sniffing back his own emotions, “This is all fucked beyond belief and it will never be okay. I said I forgive you. And I get why he did too.”

“I betrayed him,” Darcy sobbed, the tears started again but the words were there now, and she couldn’t leave them unsaid, “I betrayed them both. I let that happen. I killed him.”

“No,” Tony stepped forward and started to reach out then hesitated and pulled his hand back, “Take it from someone who has fucked up more than you ever did; you don’t get to take credit for other people’s choices. You didn’t do anything to make that happen.”

“Right,” Darcy scoffed, “I just didn’t do anything to stop it. That was my choice. I could have saved him, both of them, all of them, and I didn’t. I did nothing.”

“Could you have?” Tony asked, gesturing at the letter still clutched in her hand. “You were right. It’s not 100% certain, but the logic is there. If you had tried to save them, then it’s entirely possible that Manhattan would be an empty space on the map right now. That’s the real reason I forgive you, not Dad’s last words. You needed to hear those, to know he forgave you too, but I rarely agreed with my father. I forgive you because I read that letter. You didn’t do nothing. You thought about every possible way you could save them, and all the reasons that you couldn’t.

“It’s not okay,” Tony said again, “And it’ll never be okay. And when I look at you, I’ll probably still see my father dying. But you didn’t make that choice lightly; you considered all the options. You tried to find a way around it, and it’s not your fault that there wasn’t one. I can’t hate you for that.”

Darcy stared at him in awe, “How can you be so… understanding?”

“Well,” Tony shrugged uncomfortably, “As it happens, I spent the last year in therapy learning how to not blame people for things that aren’t their fault. So, really, it just good timing.”

Darcy looked back down at the letter that was so old and still so raw to her. Howard had carried her secrets to his death, but not to his grave.

“He was a good man.” She said quietly, smiling at the thought of the days he’d spent trying to wheedle secrets of the future out of her, at the memory of his unshakeable support. “If it wasn’t for him I – I don’t think I’d have made it. He was a good man, and a good friend.”

She looked up in time to catch a glimpse of annoyance cross Tony’s face before he tucked it away.

“But,” She hesitated, “I imagine some of the things that made him a great man, might have made him a less than great father. I know if he’d seen you today, he would be incredibly proud of you.”

Tony huffed out a laugh, shoving his hands into his pockets. He gave her an appraising glare for a moment, and then seemed to make some decision.

“Yeah, Dad was never good at the whole love and support thing. Almost never told me he was proud of me.” He acknowledged, “And then he left a letter for me with that one, and you know what it said?”

Darcy shook her head slowly.

“It said that if you trusted me to save you, then I must be pretty special.” He snorted. “Apparently your opinion was worth more than anything that actually existed while he and I were both alive.”

Darcy rolled her eyes with a sigh, “He really was terrible at those sorts of things. He cared a lot more than he said, even back then. I’m sorry he was so useless at making you understand how much he loved you, but I’m sure he did.”

Tony watched her for a moment, then some tension he’d carried since he walked in released. He turned suddenly toward the kitchen. He moved straight for the alcohol like he could sense where it was, pouring a glass of scotch for both of them.

“He also left a bottle of tequila for you,” Tony told her, pushing one of the glasses towards her, “But I may have consumed most of it after reading the letters.”

Darcy laughed suddenly and felt an odd shock at being able to laugh.

“That’s fair,” She nodded, reaching out to take the glass. She held it up in a toast, “To Howard, who was brilliant at so much, but utterly terrible at emotions.”

Tony reached out to click his glass against hers with a smirk.

They sipped in silence, each lost in their own memories of a man who had meant such different things to them.

A serious expression crossed Tony’s face and he put down his glass carefully.

“FRIDAY, mark the time point alpha.” He spoke quietly and waited for FRIDAY to acknowledge the order before reaching into a pocket and pulling out what looked like a pendant.

“What is that?” Darcy asked curiously.

“You know, they sent me to wipe the data at the Hydra base.” Tony looked down at the object on the end of a chain. “It wasn’t hard to track their backups and upload a virus that would obliterate everything. Only needed a handful of minutes.”

Darcy looked up at him sharply, a shot of fear rushing through her.

“Tell me you didn’t take a copy.” She whispered, terror rising in her chest. She’d been so certain it was over.

“I took a copy.” He admitted.

“Jesus, Tony.” She felt like her chest was seizing up. She couldn’t breathe properly. A thousand ways this could all happen again burst into her mind.

“I thought it could be important.” He told her, eyes dark with something she didn’t like, “Time travel? Come on. That could change the world. Think of all the things we could make better.”

“I can think of even more things we could make worse.” She told him desperately.

“Yeah,” He sighed, “After reading your letter, and the one Dad left, I get that.”

He stepped forward and placed the necklace into her hand, demonstrating how one curl of silver could be shifted, raising one piece to reveal a fingerprint scanner. When he pressed her finger to it, the end flicked open to reveal a USB connector.

“A part of me still thinks this could change the world, that it could save the world.” He told her, sliding the same decorative curl back into place so the whole thing retracted until it looked like a simple necklace again, “But I get that in the wrong hands it would be devastating, And I also get that mine would be the wrong hands. There are so many things I’d want to fix, so many mistakes I’ve made that I wish I could take back. And I can’t begin to guess what the world would be like if I did.”

He stepped back, leaving her holding the necklace, “That’s the only copy. I wiped any trace that there ever was a copy from my systems. You’re the only person who completely understands the risks involved, so you’re the only person who gets to decide whether it’ll ever be worth that risk.”

“Tony…” Darcy looked up at him in shock. She had no idea how to react to this. She could understand his unwillingness to throw away the science; Jane had expressed the same remorse over losing something so remarkable. But Darcy didn’t want to hold this kind of responsibility. She didn’t want to face these kinds of decisions ever again.

“You can destroy it,” He nodded as if he understood the thoughts in her head, “Or you could upload it to the internet for the whole world. Something tells me you won’t pick that option. It’s up to you. You’ve earned the right to make that call.”

Darcy looked down at the innocuous looking thing. It was hard to believe it might hold the secrets that had thrown her life so far from anything she could have predicted.

The fear made her want to throw it out the window now, chuck it in a blender, stomp it into pieces.

But it had been a long time since Darcy let fear rule her decisions.

She curled her fingers around the small object and pulled it into her chest.

“I don’t know what I’ll decide.” She told him honestly.

He shrugged, “It’s your choice to make. Can’t pretend I’m not absurdly curious, but I’ll never ask you about it again. In fact, we’ll never speak of it again. As far as the world is concerned, every record of Hydra’s time-travel experiment has been erased and there’s no way to duplicate it.”

Darcy considered for a moment, then pulled the chain over her head and tucked the camouflaged USB drive under her shirt.

“Thank you,” She told him quietly.

He simply nodded, moving back to pick up his glass.

“FRIDAY, erase all audio and video from this room back to point alpha.” He directed, downing what was left in his glass and pouring another.

After a moment, Tony spoke up again, clearly hoping to ease the conversation into something less heavy.

“So, you and Rogers, huh?”

Darcy took the topic change in stride, shrugging as she swirled the scotch in her glass, “Maybe. We’ll see. It’s been a long time and we’re not the same people we used to be. It will take time to see if we still fit together.”

“And here I thought fit was a pretty easy test,” Tony said with a graphic hand gesture.

Darcy rolled her eyes and responded drily, “What an unexpected joke, I never would have expected it.”

“Well, it’s been two weeks and you’re already living together. That sounds pretty serious to me.”

She hesitated, but for some reason she felt like this was the time and place for honesty.

“I… I have nightmares. There was this… incident. I hurt myself.” Darcy admitted, pulling back her sleeve to show the bandage where she’d clawed at her own arm in her sleep, “I can’t sleep alone.”

“Oh.” Tony watched her for a moment, “Still, there are other options if you didn’t want to be sleeping with a superhero. I’m sure I could source some heavy-duty tranquilisers, and I bet Foster would volunteer as bed buddy in an instant if you wanted something more platonic.”

“I’ll stick with the doctor prescribed sleeping pills, thanks. And Jane is… challenging. She’s trying, but it was 5 minutes for her. She keeps expecting me to be just Darcy and… I’m not any more. Steve and Bucky and even strangers are easier because they never knew the old Darcy.” Darcy stared down into her now empty glass.

“That’s bullshit.” Tony scoffed, “She’s your friend. Hell, everything you did for her? She’s your family. Don’t cut her out just because you’re scared. After what you both went through, the way you talk about her, I’d have thought you’d have more faith in her than that.”

“It’s not…” Darcy struggled to find the words to explain, to defend her decisions. “I do have faith in her, of course I do. But she… she deserves better. I don’t know how to be the friend I used to be. I can barely remember that person. She expects that Darcy to reappear but I don’t even know how to be that anymore.”

“That’s exactly why you need her,” Tony told her impatiently, “Because she _does_ remember that person. She can help you relearn what you were before, can help you figure out how to find the parts of that Darcy that you want to reclaim.”

Darcy stared at him in confusion, completely blindsided. “Are you sure you’re a Stark? That all sounds disturbingly emotionally mature.”

“Turns out therapy even works for Starks.” He told her, “And I am way past my patience with this crap. FRIDAY, hold your warnings.”

Tony grabbed her arm and pulled her to the door. More confused than ever, Darcy let him guide her over. He yanked the door open and shoved her lightly into the hallway.

Jane scrambled to her feet, surprised. She’d been sitting on the floor, papers and scientific journals around her.

“Jane?” Darcy asked in confusion, looking around at the space. She could see a basket next to Jane with a water bottle, stationery and half a bag of chips. Glancing at the papers, she realised that they weren’t scattered nearly as far as Jane would usually scatter things when she was working, all still within arm’s reach.

Where she could sweep everything up into the basket and disappear at a moment’s notice.

“Darcy!” Jane shuffled nervously, “I’m sorry, this looks bad, doesn’t it? It’s too creepy, isn’t it? I know you wanted space. You need space. And that’s fine. I’m fine with giving you space. I just… I, um, I wanted to be close… just in case.”

Darcy took a deep shuddering breath as she put the pieces together.

“So,” She stepped slowly closer, “You’ve been camping in the hallway, making FRIDAY warn you when anyone heads to the door?”

Jane looked down at her shoes, embarrassed, “Yes?”

Darcy lunged forward, throwing her arms around her best friend, speaking as quickly as she could through the sobs that were quickly taking over. “I love you, Jane Foster. You are the best friend ever and I’m so sorry I cut you out.”

Jane held her back just as tightly, breaking into tears herself. “No, it’s okay. You needed time. That’s allowed. I love you, too, so I’m happy to give you as much time as you need.”

They held each other, crying and offering each other increasingly ridiculous declarations of love. Darcy wasn’t sure where the reservoir of tears came from this time, surely she’d cried herself out already today.

But these tears were different. These were tears of hope, of joy, of love. These were the kind of tears that could heal.

“Seriously,” Tony interrupted them eventually, “No more emotional camping out in the hallways. I’ve provided plenty of comfortable seating _inside_ the apartments that you can use for this!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an epilogue to go! I can't believe it's almost over!
> 
> If you thought this felt epiloguey, that's because it started out that way, but then it grew too big and I decided I needed another epilogue after this.


	30. Epilogue

“What about accounting?” Darcy asked, flipping a page. She was curled into a corner of the couch, cuddled into a blanket, wearing her cosiest socks while the snow fell outside the windows.

“Accounting?” Bucky asked with a flat, sceptical tone. “Really?”

“What?” She glanced over at him, stretched out at the other end of the couch with his feet up on the coffee table. She smiled at his unimpressed expression, “You’ve got to be good at numbers since you were a sniper. Maybe all along you were meant to be calculating future values instead of bullet trajectories.”

“And sit and stare at numbers all day?” Bucky shook his head and turned back to the tablet he was scrolling through, “No, thanks.”

“Some kind of engineering?” Darcy turned another page, “Ooh, you could study biomechanical engineering and get into prosthetics. Figure out how your arm works and spread the tech to other people who need it.”

Bucky paused and glanced back at her, “That one is an interesting idea.”

“Yeah, it is!” She folded down the corner of the page, “Shortlisted.”

“Your turn,” He angled the tablet toward her, “The Salvation Army needs a Quality Consultant.”

“Hmm,” Darcy wrinkled her nose, “Problematic history of campaigning against gay rights. I’m not sure enough where they stand now to work for them.”

“The Women’s Refuge wants Social Workers.” He scrolled up again.

“Social Worker’s one you need a qualification for.” She told him.

“Oh,” He swiped a couple others off his screen, “Stark’s managed to get another job listing on here again, even though you keep blocking him. You sure you don’t want to take the job that’s basically guaranteed?”

Darcy shook her head, flipping idly through the course prospectus, “I spent too long sitting back and letting bad things happen. I never want to do that again. I want to work in something that helps people. Something that helps people immediately and directly.”

“Huh,” Bucky frowned, pulling the tablet closer to read it more carefully, “This one’s different. It’s not for SI, it’s for the Maria Stark Foundation. Community Co-ordinator for the charity. Looks like it would be finding causes to spend Stark’s money on.”

Darcy paused, considering, “I don’t know if I want to work for Stark at all. But if it meets all of the other criteria, I guess shortlist it anyway. I can decide later if the pros outweigh the cons.”

He followed her instructions, adding the job to her shortlist.

“What about you, Steve?” Darcy asked, glancing over to where he sat sketching in the arm chair across from them, “We’re picking courses for Bucky to study, finding real-person jobs for me to apply for. Want us to solve anything in your life?”

“I’m good.” Steve answered easily, continuing to scratch away at the page. He looked up at caught her eye, giving her a relaxed, peaceful smile. “Can’t think of anything I need right now.”

She smiled back at him, the sight of him at such ease making her relax.

“Sap.” Bucky gave his chair a friendly kick and Steve laughed.

Darcy took a breath, watching them, and had a sudden moment of realising how easy it was, how light she felt.

A tiny part of her tensed at the realisation. The part that thought she didn’t deserve to be anywhere near happy.

She pushed it back, running through one of the techniques her therapist had taught her to keep the anxiety in check.

Steve was still watching her, a thoughtful look on his face, and she wondered if he could read the thoughts in her head. He’d understand, she knew, how hard it could be to stop being ashamed of being happy.

He set aside his sketch pad and she caught a glimpse of the picture; her and Bucky, right here on the couch.

He pushed to his feet and took a few steps over to the wall. He crouched down and slid back a panel she hadn’t realised was there. After rifling inside for a moment, he closed it again and came back, continuing past his chair until he reached Bucky.

He held out his hand and Darcy saw a few notes folded in his hand.

Bucky frowned up at him and took the cash, quickly counting it.

“$200?” He asked, apparently as confused as Darcy.

“Settling a bet.” Steve explained, and Darcy saw the realisation appear on Bucky’s face. It wasn’t hard to see; he broke into a sly smirk almost immediately.

“What did you bet on?” Darcy asked suspiciously.

“You might owe Tony a hundred as well,” Bucky pointed out, “Since Howard was right, too, and he’s not here to collect.”

Steve considered for a moment then shook his head, “I’m not so sure Tony would agree. He’d probably think it was funny.”

Darcy glared at them, catching the way they shot knowing looks at her, “You boys and your inside jokes and veiled allusions. What, were you betting on my inability to read your minds?”

“Never, princess,” Steve shifted to lean over her and drop a soft, sweet kiss to her lips, then he dropped down into the space between them on the sofa and draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his warmth. She sighed contentedly at the feeling.

“Seventy or so years ago,” Steve explained in a quiet voice, “Bucky here bet that you’d get everything exactly right.”

Darcy froze as his meaning swept through her, she felt a lump in her throat and tears immediately welled in her eyes.

“Oh,” was all she managed.

For the first time, she found herself truly believing that they forgave her. Without any doubting voice in the back of her head trying to argue otherwise.

She took a slightly shaky breath, not as light as before, but somehow sweeter. This was not a fleeting moment of peace; this was a moment that would linger.

“And Howard bet that ‘Billie Theodore’ was a terrible joke.” Bucky added with a grin.

Darcy let out a surprised laugh, cutting through the tension that was building in her chest.

 “It was an amazing joke,” She disagreed, “Definitely my favourite.”

She grinned as Steve and Bucky broke into a debate about the relative merits of her various time-travelling pseudonyms.

This was good. This was right. The world still had problems. They each still had bad days. She’d probably always have nightmares.

But they’d also have this. Laughter and stories and friends and forgiveness.

Bucky would go learn something he’d never have had the chance to try in the depression and war-torn forties. Maybe he’d change his major six times just to have a chance to try everything, or maybe he’d fall in love with one subject and never let it go.

Steve would go back to being Captain America. He hadn’t said it, but they all knew he would. He’d chosen that path in a way she and Bucky never had. And he would choose it again because that was who he was. He was a hero. He always had been.

And Darcy would get a job that would let her change the world, that would let her fight to save people and improve lives. She’d have tequila nights with Jane and fights about boundaries with Tony and banter with Bucky and all of those and more with Steve.

She’d have dreams of the future. Any future.

A future she couldn’t begin to guess at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The END!!!
> 
> Thank you all for joining me on this adventure. Your comments and kudos and general support kept me writing when things got tricky. 
> 
> This has been the biggest thing I've ever attempted to write, and I'm honestly just so proud of myself for actually finishing it. It turned out better than I thought I was capable of, too. I'm just so happy and so humbled to know that so many of you loved it. 
> 
> I know many of you are hoping that there will be more to this story. At the moment, I don't have any plans to write more in this world. I really wanted to give Darcy this open ending, the freedom of an uncertain future after being trapped by the future for so long. It just feels like the right ending to me, and I'm happy with that being the end of the whole series, too.
> 
> That said, I did choose to slide that backup of the data into the last chapter just in case I wanted to come back to it later, so... never say never.


End file.
